


So I dub thee unforgiven.

by Astral_Romances



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Cheating, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, F/M, Family, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Historical Hetalia, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Romance, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astral_Romances/pseuds/Astral_Romances
Summary: The second world war has ended. People are punished, guilt takes over, ancient secrets are revealed, walls are built, hearts are broken, promises shed. Still in a world so dark love can find its' way somehow.!!!Read the beginning note before starting!!!
Relationships: Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Hungary/Prussia (Hetalia)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 62





	1. Before I fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Hetalia story, I'll do my best with my research, but not all will be historically accurate, so I'm sorry in advance if some things are incorrect. This story will be updated irregulary, so I can't say when that will be, but it WILL happen. Please enjoy!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains subjects that could potentially be triggers.  
> \- Mental and physical abuse  
> \- PTSD  
> \- War  
> \- Violence/gore  
> \- Cheating  
> \- Self-harm  
> \- Drug/alcohol abuse  
> \- Suicidal thoughts
> 
> cross-posted on Wattpad

Feliciano sat quietly in his chair at the table of the world-meeting room. Today was a bit different from usual, though. His usual smile was missing, he just quietly stared into his lap and the seats next to him were empty; no one wanted to sit next to him, no one except for Lovino, of course. Though he doubted whether his brother _really_ wanted to sit next to him or if he just did so because he was socially awkward and had no friends. It was the first meeting since that dreadful war, which had caused so many people to die.

Feliciano still felt awful about his betrayal in 1943; when the ground beneath his feet had started to crumble he’s abandoned his best friends, his beloved Germany and Japan. He followed the lead of his big brother Lovino and joined the allies, thus breaking the pact of steel. Some parts of Italy (mostly the north) were still fascistic though and weren’t yet convinced of joining the allied forces, but they came around eventually, be it with force.

Still, his heart had remained loyal to Germany, but he couldn’t really explain why. He had never really been into men, but he felt so drawn to him. Feliciano wanted nothing more than to constantly hug the taller man and to listen to his heartbeat when he fell asleep, he wanted to kiss him and hold him and do things to him that he probably shouldn’t say out loud. Naturally the allies didn’t know about this, but they did feel that something was off, that Feliciano wasn’t as devoted to destroying the German armies as the others were.

After his surrender and betrayal, Feliciano learned about the awful truths about what really happened during the war, about the horrible, stomach-turning genocide. It was unlike any other war; usually the wars were fought between the military and governments and civilians were left out of the conflict, but this war had taken it to the innocent civilians as well, killing millions and millions. Feliciano couldn’t believe that he had once supported something like that and he didn’t want to believe that Germany was okay with all that had happened. Not the kind hearted, shy and awkward man he had come to know and love so deeply.

Despite his surrender and switch of sides, the war had gone on and the German army no longer treated his people with respect, they were no longer allies and so the military now treated them as enemies, they would kill anyone that resisted them without hesitation. Germany kept on fighting; however things had started to go downhill for them. They were no longer unbeatable and the allies were closing in on them.

In 1945 the news came that Germany had surrendered and was taken captive and that his boss was no longer alive. Germany wasn’t really a country these days; it was more of a wasteland controlled by the allied forces. Japan hadn’t surrendered yet, but they eventually did so in September 1945, marking the official end of World War 2. Though things weren’t calm yet in some parts of Asia and near the Soviet borders.

Today would be the first time they’d have to meet again and Feliciano was a nervous wreck. Would Germany be mad at him? Of course he would be; he’d broken their promise. The promise that they’d always be there for each other, that they would always remain to be friends. Today’s meeting was about what to do with the former axis countries, Germany in general. Present in the room were the allied forces, only China wasn’t present, and several axis countries. Despite Italy having turned their back on the axis near the end of the war, he was prohibited from sitting close to Germany. The allies didn’t fully trust him, despite him being a part of them now. But he couldn’t blame them; he was a traitor and a former enemy.

At the far end of the room in a corner sat Prussia. His unusually pale skin was covered in scars and his nose sat slightly askew on his face, his white hair was all tangled up and greasy, his clothes torn and smeared with dust and blood, belonging to multiple soldiers, yet he had his head up high and his chest pushed forward; how he could be so confident was a mystery to Feliciano. Prussia was nearly wiped off the map, in the literal sense. It wasn’t really a country anymore, he just needed to sign the official documents and then it would be all over for him. He would be nothing, just a memory, divided between Poland and Germany.

By joining the allies, Feliciano and Lovino had escaped any form of punishment, there was a chance that some of the allies would have a close eye on his house for a while, but that wasn’t all that bad at all, but he knew that Germany and Prussia wouldn’t be so lucky.

The time seemed to move agonizingly slow, Feliciano looked at his pocket watch; the meeting should have started a while ago, in the past Germany had never been late. Not even a second. As if they could hear his thoughts, the doors opened, revealing two gigantic, strong men in black. Between them walked Germany, who was nearly as tall as the men guiding him. He looked at the floor, not even bothering to search for his brother or anyone else.

Feliciano noticed that he had changed. He was thin, most of his muscular, nearly godlike, body had turned into flesh over bone, his jaw-line was even sharper than usual and his cheeks were hollow, cheekbones sticking out too far. His blue eyes seemed void of any emotion at all, they were darker than usual and nearly grey; they reminded Feliciano of the eyes of Holy Rome on the day he left for war. His skin was covered in dirt, bruises and scars, dried blood had made a sticky mess out of his hair. Germany, once a great power was now a chaos, weak, vulnerable and not intimidating in the very least. A part of Feliciano wanted to get up and hug the taller man, tell him everything would be alright, but his senses told his not to do so.

Germany was lead to a chair, on the opposite end of the long table, as far away from Feliciano as possible. The Italian didn’t dare to look up, because doing so would have him stare directly into Germany’s eyes. He was scared of what he would see in them. Germany sat down, but the men in black didn’t leave his side. Instead of his usual straight posture, he now sat slumped, head hanging.

‘Alright, let’s get this meeting started.’ America said. ‘Germany, Germany, Germany. What will we do with you? It’s a shame, really. You were such a fine piece of man to look at, too bad that you’re evil.’ He said. Germany didn’t reply, nor did he turn his head in response to America’s immature remarks.

‘Tch,’ Lovino said under his breath as he rolled his eyes. ‘Something as dumb as “evil” and “hero” doesn’t exist in a war, you American bastard.’

‘America, please behave yourself. This is a very serious situation.’ England interfered. ‘Thank you, Romano for reminding us of the fact that none of us here are heroes or villains. We should all remember that war is never black and white.’

‘I didn’t ask for your opinion, eyebrow bastard.’ Lovino sassed back. Lovino didn’t like it when people (but especially men) talked back to him.

‘Haven’t we already decided what we’ll do though?’ Russia said. A creepy smile was plastered on his face, a mix of childlike innocence and the devil.

‘But of course. This isn’t as much a meeting as it is a verdict. We’ll be speaking, you’ll be taking your punishment as we see fit, do you understand that, Germany?’ France said; his voice wasn’t filled with any malice. He spoke normally, seemingly one of the only person’s present to not blindly be harsh to Germany, or he simply might have been the most convincing actor out of the allies.

‘Yes.’ Germany replied. It was weird how strong his voice still sounded compared to how he looked. He answered without wasting any words, this had been drilled into his head since childhood; everything they said could be used against you once you were caught.

‘Alright; here it is. Germany, you will be demilitarized for an undecided amount of time, the allies will rule over your country until we see fit. But most importantly you are sentenced to death; Germany shall be dissolved. Prussia, you will get the land, do what you want with it, as long as you follow our rules.’

‘I accept.’ The blond said after only a short pause. In his expression was no room for fear or anger, only a faint wave of sadness seemed to gently touch his features.

‘You’re a noble person, accepting such a harsh sentence as easy as this; I give you that much.’ England spoke. You could hear that he meant it.

‘Oh no.’ Feliciano whimpered, he felt like he had been punched in the face. He couldn’t believe his ears and felt like he was going to either throw up or faint, maybe both. He wanted to stand up and protest, scream that it was unfair, that Germany wasn’t his boss, that the war hadn’t been _his_ fault and that he was just a scapegoat. The fear of losing his best friend made him tremble. However a hand around his wrist stopped him from doing the things he thought of.

‘Veneziano, don’t. The potato bastard isn’t worth it.’ Lovino half whispered, half hissed. He looked pissed, but then again, Lovino was always pissed. The hand around his wrist was strong, Lovino wasn’t joking. Feliciano winced in pain as Lovino strengthened his grip even further. ‘I know you’re sad, but this room is _not_ for emotions.’

But Lovino was right; right now Germany wasn’t a friend, he was an enemy, a war criminal. Feliciano knew that something like this would happen; he always knew Germany wasn’t getting out of this so easily once he’d surrendered. Protesting against it now wouldn’t do any good. He shouldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way. Even in these dark post-war days, Germany was filled with pride; he loved his country and was willing to die for it in a heartbeat. England was right; he really was a noble person.

For a moment, it appeared that everything would go smoothly and without any objections, America and some others were already getting ready to leave the conference room, but a sudden outburst of anger halted the breeze of ease, reminding everyone that this was one of the most difficult meetings they’d ever had.

‘No fucking way you’re gonna do _that_!’ Prussia said. He stood up from his chair and marched towards the table, slamming both hands down on it, making the glasses standing on the table tremble. His red eyes seemed to spat fire and he gritted his teeth together. He really looked like a demon, Feliciano thought. It was no wonder armies in the past spoke of having encountered a red-eyed demon on the battle field during the Teutonic crusades and wars.

‘Prussia, I get that this wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but you know that it’s what we decided was best. Your brother violated the universal rules of war; that makes him a criminal and punishable by death. Please sit down before we need to take action.’ England said calmly.

‘What’s best, huh? What’s easiest, you mean! You just don’t want to deal with the trouble of helping him reintegrate and get back on his feet!’

‘Gilbert darling, he’s evil.’ France said in attempt to calm his best friend down.

‘I don’t want to hear another word from you, France. Lovi _just_ mentioned that no one here is evil! And I sure as hell won’t let you lay a hand on my brother _again_ , do you hear me? It might look like I have, but I _haven’t_ fucking forgotten.’ The white-haired man hissed.

‘Don’t bring that up now; can’t you see that Italy is right over there? We agreed to never speak of this with him around!’ France replied.

‘He was just a fucking child, he was innocent. He really wanted to return from that war, you know? I had to kill my relatives to make sure he could survive what you did to him, but he never became the same again, he didn’t even remember me _or_ Feli! It took me ages to forgive you and now you are about to do it again. Ever since his rebirth, all West has known is hate, no one ever gave him a helping hand, and no one cared for him! No one but me! _You_ forced him into debt; _you_ made his people so desperate that they elected that shit-faced dick as their ruler! I blame you! You and Austria.’ Prussia snarled. Feliciano saw tears in his eyes.

‘Prussia, please stop. You’re saying things you’ll regret.’ Germany said nervously. He discretely glanced towards his other older brother.

Feliciano noticed how Austria visibly winced as Prussia, one of his very own brothers, threw the appalling allegations towards him without a breath wasted and not even a second of thought, yet the elegant man chose to remain silent. Feliciano couldn’t understand anything that was being said, his head had been locked. Nothing went in and everything that did manage to get past the mental barrier immediately left his head again.

‘Prussia, dude, we get how you feel, but you get no say in this. You aren’t the hero this time around, you really need to sit down and chill, yo.’ America said.

‘No; you don’t get how I feel. You’ve had the easiest life out of everyone here. You don’t know what it’s like to lose a sibling! I won’t stand for it to happen to me again! Did you know West didn’t know a fucking thing about the whole prosecutions and camps? Like most of his troops, he only found out _after_ he surrendered and can you see what that did to him? Would any person “evil” be this affected by their guilt? Mein Gott, I barely recognize my own brother. His boss never told his anything in depth, he kept him in the dark because he knew he would run if he knew the truth, he gave him orders and he followed those, just like you all follow the orders from _your_ bosses, nations can’t ask questions. My brother is _not_ evil, do you hear me?’

‘He’s old and wise enough to know what’s right and wrong, Prussia.’

‘He’s barely even seen the 100. This war was only the second one in his life as Germany. How many wars have you each had? Do I need to remind you of how you enslaved and killed millions in the past?’

‘That was because our bosses--’

‘Don’t fucking start with me, eyebrows. You committed genocide in several places, killing nearly all of the natives with your advanced weapons and blankets covered in germs and don’t you deny it. You didn’t even see those people as human beings. It was _your_ people that invented concentration camps, not the Germans. You should have received the same punishment, or even worse for all of that as what you’re giving West now. Your country is the biggest monster in history.’

‘Listen dude, you can keep up your screaming but it won’t chance what we’ve decided. Leave my old man out of this, all that shit’s in the past now.’ America said. ‘Let’s all just sign these documents now. Germany will be demilitarized, divided under the allies, dissolved and killed, okay?’

‘I always thought my death would be a bit more awesome, but you give me no other choice. I haven’t always been the best brother; so I’m gonna make up for that now. I volunteer to be disbanded and killed in his stead. Do what you want with me, torture me until there’s nothing left of the awesome me, but don’t kill West or else I’m going to fucking kill you.’

‘Prussia, no!’ Germany said in a blind panic, standing up from his chair. Feliciano had never seen him look so frightened before. Alerted by his sudden movement, the men in black pinned him back down in his chair without a single word, using a lot more force than necessary. The pain was visible on the German’s face and it made Feliciano want to cry. His body was no longer strong; it couldn’t take any form of violence as it was now.

‘I’d really rather you hadn’t said that, my friend.’ France sighed in defeat and he turned his head away, unable to even look at Prussia anymore, Feliciano could see his mouth was trembling.

‘We’ll have to discuss this further, Prussia. This is a lot you’re asking.’ England said, it was obvious that he was perplexed.

‘Oh how exciting! Things took a turn in the most unexpected way.’ Russia said. ‘A tragic expression of true love! It’s so heartwarming.’ He was like a child on his birthday, strangely endearing despite the fact that they were talking about the death of a person.

‘Oi, albino bastard, what the fuck have you been smoking lately? Laying down you life to save that damn potato bastard, you must have lost it.’ Lovino said angrily, but the shock was clearly audible, Lovino wasn’t the best actor.

‘Lovi, you know that if it came down to it you’d do the same thing for your own brother.’

‘Fuck no I wouldn’t.’ Lovino yelled, but it was most likely a lie. Lovino cared more than he let on.

‘Prussia! You can’t do this! It’s not fair, it’s not!’ Feliciano cried.

‘Oh, Feli. I’m mainly doing this with you and the rest of the world in mind. I’ve lived a long life filled with nothing but war; it’s about time this bitch got some rest, but West is still young. He is intelligent, innovative, loyal and a hard worker and also pretty boring, so he won’t pull any crazy stunts. I couldn’t keep long-term peace even if I wanted to, because I’m too awesome for something like that, but I know that my brother could if they just gave him a chance.’

‘I don’t know about this, Prussia. Germany has really proven himself to be a great danger to the world, playing a main role in both world wars. I don’t know if we can let someone that dangerous live.’ Canada spoke, barely audible.

‘But I just don’t want either of you to die! It’s not fair at all. Why can’t we just settle this peacefully? Forgive and forget?’ Feliciano pleaded.

‘Italy, you know it doesn’t work like that.’ Germany said. It didn’t feel like he was directing any anger towards the Italian, the way he talked to him was still the same; condescending yet subtly lovingly.

‘But Germany, why doesn’t it? Why can’t we all just be happy? Why do you have to die?’ Feliciano said, his voice cracked as he spoke.

‘Veneziano, you damn idiot.’ Lovino said as he buried his face in his hands.

‘Italy, you do realize that those two are responsible for over 50 million deaths, right? I think they deserve a harsh punishment for that, it’s really bad.’ France said kindly. He still found himself unable to express any serious anger towards Feliciano, he just couldn’t hurt his darling little brother.

‘Yeah, I get that, I really do! Everything about this war was horrible and there should be consequences! But… the armies did that, his boss did that. He didn’t kill all those people, I’m sure Germany never laid a finger on a civilian! He killed soldiers, but we’ve all done that, haven’t we? Since we were kids we’ve always…’ Feliciano had to take a pause; the truth was hard to speak out loud. ‘I mean Germany is really scary and intimidating, but he is a good person deep down! Not even all that deep down! He really loves his people! I mean, I’m annoying and all kinds of useless, but he still came to save me every time I called for help. Germany never abandoned me because he isn’t a coward like, well, me. He had been hated by everyone his whole life, no one reached out to learn him how to be normal, so it’s not that strange he’s mentally different, right? And why are you punishing him and not me? I might have switched sides, but I’m still guilty aren’t I? So why don’t you kill me too? It’s not like you even need two Italy’s anymore! What’s the point in keeping me alive then?’ Feliciano rattled as he gestured wildly with his arms. He knew he should stop talking, but he couldn’t. His guilt and affection for his former ally were just too strong. He knew defending the enemy was a very bad idea and he could see from the corner of his eyes how Lovino turned white with rage.

‘Veneziano, that’s enough. Sit your ass down and shut up before I shoot you for real.’ His brother demanded. His voice was as cold as ice, his expression furious with cold rage.

‘Romano is right, Italy. You shouldn’t defend an enemy like this and you shouldn’t ask for a death sentence without thinking about it.’ England said.

‘Sorry.’ Feliciano said.

‘I’m not loyal,’ Germany spoke. ‘I got rid of my boss.’ Everyone turned their heads around in shock.

‘Excuse me for using bad words, but what in the bloody fuck do you mean by that?’ Canada said. Canada never cursed.

‘West, you are kidding me right?’

‘You did _what_? That’s not what the reports say.’ England stammered.

‘His leadership of over my house became his downfall because he got himself caught in a corner, there was no escaping. I just did what was necessary.’

‘Man, I don’t know what to do with this information.’ America said. ‘This changes things.’

‘I don’t know whether this changed things for better or for worse for you, Germany. This is an exceptionally grave offense.’ France said.

‘What made you do such a thing? Even I never killed my boss.’ Russia said.

‘Does this even count as a murder, though? We’re nations, not humans. We represent the wishes of our people and a lot of the German people must have wanted that man to die, so that made it his job, right?’ Canada said puzzled.

‘No it isn’t it’s our job to _obey_ our bosses without asking questions; not _kill_ them. My people wanted my boss dead as well and I didn’t carry out that wish, it was the people that did so.’ Lovino said. ‘So why did you decide to do it yourself, you potato? Do you even realize what situation you put yourself in, huh?’ The brunet growled aggressively. It was just Lovino’s weird way of showing that he cared, not necessarily about Germany’s wellbeing, but that of his younger brother.

‘As a nation I’ll always love my people above all. Discovering so many of my loved ones were abused and murdered because of my boss’s ideals made me lose all will to fight on his side. I had to do something to stop the war to prevent more people from dying and so I decided to end it in the easiest way. Such a prideful person would have killed himself eventually, but that wasn’t enough for me; he promised that I would get the world, but he just tore it all down.’

‘Oh my god.’ Someone whispered, though Feliciano couldn’t tell who it was.

‘After that I let myself get caught by the allies and surrendered. I knew very well that you would sentence me to death; I have many regrets, but this is not one of them. My sins will never fade; the pain will be there for many years to come. My death is barely even a punishment.’ He explained calmly.

‘Barely a punishment? Dying is the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone!’ America said in shock.

‘For you maybe; because you’re lucky enough that you can love yourself. But I’ve never loved myself. I don’t have a reason to stay alive. I fucked up the entire world twice; I think one death in contrast to millions is not even close to justice. The worst punishment for me would be to live seeing the damage I’ve caused and bearing the scars of what I’ve done and all I have allowed myself to be blind for forever. Because it’s true, I didn’t know about the things that went on behind my back, but I _should_ have known and prevented it from happening.’

‘Oh, West, c’mon don’t be so pessimistic all the time! Time heals all wounds, yours are no exception. I mean, look at all of them; they’ve all got their shit together these days. Even after wiping out the entire population of other continents and using other human beings as slaves, it’s not that different from what happened in this war. You are smart enough to do good things. You just gotta let me take the punishment in your stead; my house is on the brink of nonexistence anyway. I’ve worked so hard to unify Germany in the past; don’t let that effort go to waste.’ Prussia pleaded desperately.

‘No, Prussia. I won’t permit you to die in my place, it wouldn’t be right. This isn’t like you, you’re freaking me out.’

‘As if you’re not acting weird yourself, West!’ The white-haired man yelled back. ‘We were born to fight until the bitter end, it’s in our blood! Yet I was also taught to look after my family and as your older brother, protecting you is my duty!’

‘There’s an immense difference between protecting me and _dying_ for me.’

‘Can’t you just listen to my advice for _once_ in your life!?’ Prussia said. ‘God, you used to act stubbornly like this in the past. I said, don’t plunge yourself into war, but you still did and you ended up being gored by France’s sword!’

‘What in God’s name is that even supposed to mean!?’ Germany replied.

‘Nothing.’ France said. ‘Gilbert is just saddened, he isn’t thinking clearly.’

‘You’re a fucking liar.’ Prussia spat back.

‘Gilbert, please. Not now.’

‘Listen up West; I will not let them kill you. You’ll have to kill me before I’ll allow it.’

‘I have only one last request; bury me next to my fallen people.’ Germany said, ignoring his brother’s words.

‘Hey! Don’t make a final wish when you’re not even going to die!’ Prussia yelled.

‘I suggest we put the meeting on hold, we’ve got a lot to discuss. Let’s put the prisoners back in their cells and we’ll continue tomorrow.’ England said. He looked exhausted. ‘They seem to need to have a chat too.’

‘I hate to say this, but I agree with the eyebrow-disaster.’ France replied.

‘Yeah, I’m kinda hungry anyway.’ America chimed in. ‘I wonder if they sell hamburgers anywhere close by?’

‘Whatever,’ Lovino said. ‘I don’t care anyway; I’m fine with either of them dead.’

‘Lovi, come on, you don’t mean that!’ Feliciano protested.

‘Shut up, you bastard.’

‘It’s fine by me.’ Canada said, but no one heard him anyway.

Feliciano watched as Germany was lead out of the conference room first, followed by Prussia. Feliciano knew that it was a bad idea, but he decided to follow. So when Lovino was distracted by France hitting on his, he quickly slipped away and followed the men in black to where the cells were. He then realized that even if he followed them, he had no way of getting into the cells without the keys and stealing them didn’t seem like a good idea. The allies would think he was trying to help Germany and Prussia to escape and probably lock him up too. But he wasn’t going to break them out, or was he? Feliciano wasn’t so sure of himself. God, Lovino was going to be _so_ mad.

But more importantly; did Germany even want to talk to him? Feliciano hadn’t noticed any form of hatred in the conference hall, but that could have simply been Germany holding up his walls so well. He was a man made of stone, everything he could handle and even in his weakened state Feliciano was sure that Germany could kill him with his bare hands. He was capable of anything, great things, but also horrible things, he had murdered his boss. The man might have been twisted and evil, but never before had a country killed their own boss.

Feliciano knew that he had to face Germany eventually, he might die soon and there was just so much Feliciano still wanted to say to him. To do so, he would have to talk these men into giving his the keys to the cells. He was good at fencing, but he didn’t really have a sword with him so that was out of the question. But Feliciano knew he was pretty and cute and people usually liked that, he had a way of sweet talking to get what he wants. He had been successful many times; it had even worked on scary Germany. No one could resist Italy Veneziano’s charms. And if that didn’t work? He could always revert back to grandpa’s method and poison them. God, he hoped these guards were gay or at least a little interested in men.

‘What are you doing here, Mr. Italy? Are you lost, _again_?’ One of them asked when he noticed his presence.

‘Oh, pardon me sir, but I’m not lost this time! Actually, I wanted to speak with you two~.’ Feliciano said with a wink.

The guards looked at each other a bit puzzled. ‘Well, sure. What did you want to talk about?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just…’ Feliciano forced himself to tear up. ‘I would really like it to talk to the captives, regarding today’s meeting. It’s important for like… the world and stuff.’ He said innocently.

‘Uhm, not to be rude, but I’m pretty sure you aren’t allowed to talk to any of the axis countries regarding your past connection to them.’

‘Well, yes, but no. I’ve changed sides for a reason, I just wanna talk to them, isn’t that fair? You heard what was discussed; they might die soon and I just want to resolve things between us before that time. Otherwise I’ll feel bad forever.’ He pleaded.

‘I still don’t think this is a very good idea.’

‘Pretty please? What could I possibly do? I’m just weak and useless after all.’ Feliciano begged. He made sure that his eyes were open so that they could see the big tears in his eyes.

‘You’ve got 5 minutes and we’ll be waiting outside, ready to burst in at any sign of violence or irregular noises.’ They finally gave in.

‘Make it 10!’ He replied.

‘Fine, 10 minutes and not a second longer.’

‘Yay! Thank you very, very much; I will treat you to pasta some day!’ Feliciano would never cease to be surprised at how easily humans gave in.

‘Ehm, sure.’

‘Man, that guy is insane.’ One of them said to the other in Spanish, well too bad for them he could perfectly understand, Feliciano wasn’t as stupid as he looked and his brother had some kind of weird love/hate thing going on with Spain (with all the love coming from Spain and all the hate from Lovino), so of course he would know how to speak a little Spanish.

‘Ten minutes.’ One of them said before unlocking the door.


	2. Caged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that was fast!  
> Please enjoy!

The first thing Feliciano did was instinctively letting his eyes wander over the room. It was small for housing two grown men and their ego, probably about 10 square meters in total. The walls and floors were made of unpainted concrete, sloppily smoothed out; the door was made of heavy iron with a small hole sealed off with five thick bars preventing violent acts during interrogations. The walls and floor had small, faded stains on them, they were vaguely red and Feliciano shivered, knowing exactly what these stains were a result of. Against the wall stood a bunk-bed, a rusted iron frame with a ladder that was missing one of its’ steps, two dirty mattress, a blanket folded as a pillow and a second old, wool blanket that was intended to keep most of the cold out. Behind an improvised wall made out of two steel poles drilled deep into the concrete so they would not be able to be used as weapons or break-out tools and a dirty-white sheet of cotton hid what Feliciano supposed was a toilet and a sink.

The temperature in the room was chilly, which was probably a direct result from the room being underground, the walls and floor were slightly damp with condense and the ceiling occasionally dripped small drops of water, the sound they made echoing endlessly between the walls. There were no windows and no means of ventilation, so it naturally smelled horrible; a mixture of sweat, iron and public restroom. It was outright depressing; Feliciano’s heart ached for his friends, he bit his lip. He coughed once, to announce his presence, not wanting to startle the two men inside.

‘Feli? What the heck are you doing here? How’d you even get in?’ Prussia happily exclaimed upon seeing the Italian in the doorway. His red eyes twinkled as he immediately shut his magazine and jumped down from his bed- he had claimed the top-bunk, because he was awesome, but Feliciano knew that Germany preferred to sleep on ground level anyway-, which creaked dangerously in response to the sudden movement, making Germany look up at his brother in annoyance before turning to Feliciano.

‘Italy..?’ Germany said hesitantly, looking up from the worn-out book he was reading. It must be the only one he owned at this point. Feliciano could imagine it perfectly; Germany reading the same book over and over again, with that familiar crease in his brow, writing down notes and finding and marking the ever-so small grammar and spelling errors that would occasionally occur.

‘I just wanted to talk to you two…’ Feliciano replied. ‘Only if you want to!’ He added quickly, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

‘Of course I want to talk to you! You’re so cute!’ Prussia said. ‘Give the _awesome_ kingdom of Prussia a hug.’

‘Prussia!’ Feliciano cried as he latched himself onto the albino man. ‘I’m so sorry for betraying you; I was just so scared! I missed you! Don’t be mad at me, okay? You’re scary when you’re mad and when I’m scared I’m going to cry and I don’t like crying! Will you still be my friend pretty please? I love you Prussia I don’t want you to die! I want to drink beer with you and we can also eat pasta together and we can play with your bird, because he’s so cute and fluffy and yellow, I like yellow because it’s a happy color and if you die I’m not happy!’ The Italian rambled.

‘I don’t understand a single word you’re saying because you talk so damn fast, but I love you too and I’m not mad! I’m too awesome to get mad at someone as endearing as you.’ Prussia replied as he ruffled Feliciano’s hair in that rough, affectionate way he had done ever since Feliciano could remember.

‘And Germany? Is Germany mad at me?’ Feliciano half-whispered. He side-eyes the blond to see if he was looking like he was mad, but it was quite hard to tell since the German’s face was always so serious that he _looked_ like he was mad.

‘Probably not, he _clandestinely_ adores you and can’t stay mad at you for a long time, isn’t that right, West?’ He was obviously proud of himself for using fancy words; he probably read dictionaries to expand his vocabulary so he could impress people. That was so typically Prussia. Feliciano loved that the white-haired man could keep his head up high even in these dark days, nothing could stop him from being himself.

‘Shut up, Prussia.’ Germany replied. He was annoyed, that much was clear. Unlike his brother Germany was a true pessimist and found it hard to stay optimistic, he always expected the worst outcome in anything. That had always made Feliciano feel uneasy; Germany had known from early on that he would probably lose the war and that things would end badly for him. He had knows that it was just a matter of time and that knowledge had been like a dark shadow always lingering in his presence.

‘Germany? Can I have a hug?’ Feliciano asked shyly as he looked at his feet. ‘I know I betrayed you and that I was totally useless when I was your ally and that I’ve been nothing but a burden to you all these years, but I still want to be your BFF! I’m so sorry I broke our promise, I really, really am! You’re my best friend in the whole world and I don’t want you to die, because that would make me really sad. Lovino always says I can’t be your friend because you’re a potato bastard and that you would gladly trade me for a single sack of grain, but I don’t believe him. I know I broke our promise, but I still love you and I just want to go back to how it was before and I don’t want to lose you like--’ Feliciano had to choke back his tears.

He wasn’t even sure if he was speaking coherent English anymore; he supposed that he had probably slipped into his native tongue or even Latin at some point, but that didn’t really matter; Germany seemed to have an understanding of every language under the sun, probably because he spent most of his free time studying and reading foreign languages and culture. He could almost certainly speak fluent French, Latin and Russian, on top of his own language and English, if he wanted too.

‘I’m not mad at you. I mean, I _was_ mad after you joined the allied forces and I was definitely planning to strangle you in your sleep one night, but after I discovered about the… you know what, I’m glad that you got to distance yourself from it.’ Germany said, though he didn’t look at Feliciano. His blue eyes were fixated on one of the walls of his cell. ‘Besides… you’re still my f-friend s-so…’

‘Aah, it’s a relief that you didn’t strangle me in my sleep; that would really suck!’

‘Ja, I guess.’

‘West, come on! Be a little nicer,’ Prussia said. ‘Damn, it’s hard to raise children.’

‘I am just behaving like I usually do. You probably just failed as a parent, then.’

‘Oh I did _so_ not! I am the best, most awesome parent and don’t you forget it!’

‘Sure you are.’

‘Feli, you should just give him a big hug. He’ll brighten up immediately!’ The white-haired man said as he pulled Feliciano towards Germany, but not before quickly flashing his middle finger to his younger sibling.

‘Germany, is that okay?’ Feliciano asked hesitantly. In the past he would have just rushed in straight and hugged the blond to his heart’s content, but for once he sensed the atmosphere and refrained from doing so without asking permission first.

‘Hmph.’ The blond shrugged, averting his eyes. Germany’s cheeks colored rosy quickly, just how Feliciano remembered they would when he was subjected to any form of affection. Feliciano took the reply as a yes; he was used to Germany’s difficulties with accepting love and could read between the lines what he’d allow and what he wouldn’t. A hug would be fine, he judged.

He wrapped his arms around his former ally and pulled him close, sitting down on the other man’s lap. He winced upon noticeably feeling the bones underneath the German’s skin. His shoulders used to be so strong, they had carried Feliciano around countless times, but now they were just so weak and fragile, bone. The straps of the blonde’s black tank top were sliding down his shoulders and the fabric hung loosely around his body. Germany always used to fill it up perfectly with his muscles, but that was no longer the case. His collarbones were clearly visible and there were deep hollows between his ribs. His eyes lay deep in their sockets, dark circles surrounded them. It made Feliciano lay his head down on his friend’s shoulder and bawl his eyes out. It took a while, but eventually Germany’s oddly thin arms returned his embrace.

‘I’m so sorry! I really am! I never wanted things to turn out like this!’ Feliciano sobbed.

‘I know, I know. It’s not your fault, Italy.’ Germany replied. He slowly rubbed the Italian’s back in circles to calm him down. It was unfair, Feliciano wasn’t the one that was about to lose _everything_ , yet he was the one being reassured so kindly. He was crying while Germany wasn’t.

Feliciano noticed how Prussia watched the interactions between him and his younger sibling with a melancholy-filled smile. He seemed to be jealous, saddened by the fact that he had no one to hold. Saddened by the fact that the ones he felt towards had someone else they loved.

‘I never really stopped remaining on your side.’ Feliciano confessed, his words muffled by Germany’s shoulder.

‘I know that already.’

‘I really love you, Germany.’

‘I know you do.’

‘Why did it turn out like this?’

‘I don’t know, Italy.’

‘Even with the whole world wanting you to die, I’d still be on your side.’

‘Thank you for that.’

‘Am I annoying?’

‘…A little.’

‘Boo!’ Feliciano protested. ‘Are you getting enough food, you’re so thin? They don’t abuse you both, right!?’

‘We’re getting more food than we deserve, I just can’t bring myself to eat. They don’t treat us all that well, but that’s only natural given the circumstances. But their torture is like a mosquito bite compared to everything I’ve been through the past century. Besides, the way they treat us is nothing compared to what we did to our prisoners; our guiltless prisoners.’

‘You didn’t do that. Neither of you did!’ The Italian said, pushing himself away from Germany’s shoulder to also direct his attention to Prussia.

‘Not directly, no. However we’re still accountable for it,’ Germany sighed. ‘That’s just the way being a nation works.’

‘Well, I don’t think it’s fair that Japan is getting away with everything while they’re going to dissolve your homes. I love Japan, but it’s just not fair. Same for me, I should be punished too. If I could have, I would have stayed with you, I would have fought with you even though it all seemed hopeless, but I betrayed you, I broke our pact like it was nothing.’

‘Sadly, the world just isn’t fair most of the time; surely you’ve figured that out by now. You might have broken our pact, but it’s better this way. You’re not capable of anything evil, so it makes sense you left.’

‘I’m _way_ older than you, you know. I’ve done my fair square of evil things! Who do you think was the biggest heartbreaker in Venice during the 1300’s, huh? Don’t treat me like a baby, you’re the baby here.’ Feliciano said as he rubbed his cheek against Germany’s face, feeling a few days’ worth of stubble, which was out of character for the blond. The German tried to push Feliciano away, but was unsuccessful in doing so. Feliciano held on tight. ‘A cute little baby… with a beard.’ The Italian cooed.

‘Yup, Feli’s right. West, you’re just a baby compared to us, you’re in that phase where you want justice for your people and rule over the world, every nation has had a time like that in their early days.’ Prussia said. ‘Unfortunately, where others realized it after many little wars, it took you two world wars before you finally realized that power isn’t everything.’

‘Well, I’ve surely learned my lesson now.’ The blond huffed.

‘That’s why you should let me take your punishment. You have a bright future ahead; I have nothing but past regrets and a house on the brink of dissolution. I really couldn’t stand it to lose my little brother… again. I didn’t protect his because I was too busy with myself, that won’t happen again.’

‘There you go again, Prussia. No means no, I won’t allow you to take my punishment. On top of that, you’ve been saying all kinds of things regarding a dead younger brother, whom I’ve never heard anything about, and France. What’s up with that?’

‘Are you thinking of Holy Rome?’ Feliciano asked hesitantly.

‘Yeah, that’s right, Feli. I’m sorry to bring him up with you here.’

‘Ah, no it’s fine. I think it’s good to talk about the past sometimes. Besides, most of my memories of him are joyful ones.’ The brunet said. ‘I still care for him and I probably will do so forever, but I’ve stopped waiting for him to come back. I’ve moved on.’

‘That’s good to hear, Feli. I knew you weren’t that shallow a person.’

‘There’s no point in waiting forever, hanging on to useless feelings is only unfortunate, right? besides, I’m sure that he’s still with us, that he’s still looking after us, don’t you think so, Prussia?’ The brunet said with a smile.

‘Oh he is definitely looking after us, in more ways than you could imagine.’ Prussia sighed.

‘He’s a brother of ours and you never even let his name slip to me? And you knew him, Italy?’ Germany asked. He was getting a headache from all this; Italy and Prussia together were just too energy-consuming and confusing. They both couldn’t properly explain things and were bad at reading the mood. Who hides the existence from a family member from someone?

‘Yeah I did. It was when I was still really small; we met around the mid 800’s.’ Feliciano replied with a sad smile. ‘I guess you could call him my first love. That’s right; I’ve been getting laid ever since I was a little child~!’

‘I don’t need to hear about your love-life! Just tell me the important things.’ Germany replied, slightly annoyed. He realized that he really was just so young; Feliciano was talking about things that took place more than a millennium ago like it was yesterday while he had barely lived for one century.

‘He totally thought Italy was a girl though!’ Prussia grinned. ‘At home he wouldn’t stop talking about how “Italy was so nice today” and how much he liked “her”. He practically worshipped that push broom you gave him as parting gift. Ah, he was so adorable.’

‘He really was, though I was so scared of him at first! He always looked like he was planning my murder, but once I got to know him better I learned that he was a nice person, he always brought me food whenever Austria forgot or refused to feed me, or when he’d lock me in a basement, or when he’d step on my head for breaking stuff~.’ Feliciano chimed.

‘Wait, Austria used to do _what_ now?’ Germany asked in shock, but Italy didn’t seem to listen and just moved on with his story.

‘I’ve spent so many years hoping for him to return from war, but he never did and I gave up on waiting when I became an adult.’ Feliciano said sadly. ‘To this day I still don’t know exactly what happened to him. Ah, but we did write each other letters in the first couple of decades after he left, I still have them. They’re one of my most precious belongings.’

‘He died on the battlefield before you were even born, West; he never made it into adulthood.’

‘I never knew… I mean, obviously, I’ve heard of the Holy Roman Empire before, but I didn’t know it was impersonated by someone since it wasn’t really a country.’ Germany said; he was slightly shocked that he now suddenly learned things about the two people he cared about most that he had never known before. They had been sitting on a mutual secret and had never bothered to tell him. It hurt and he wondered why they had chosen to remain silent about the matter.

‘That’s probably why he never grew up. His house was always instable and never evolved into a real empire, so he was stuck in childhood. He was a strong and important major power in central Europe for a long-ass time, but his constitution was weak. I was originally the awesome St. Maria order in the beginning of the 12th century, when the Holy Roman Empire had already existed since the 800’s, which is kind of weird since he was definitely younger than me... Then again, I have been alive for a long time representing a group of people instead of an actual country while dad was looking after me, so maybe I was older because of that? I’m not sure; we nations are pretty weird, aren’t we?’ Prussia said.

‘We are! I mean I have Seborga and Romano, but by our bodily age Seborga’s a teen and Romano and I are both adults, despite Seborga having been born around the same time as us, because it’s always been a part of Italy. Our aging doesn’t really make sense. Germany should be a looking like a little baby instead of an adult if we compare his age to me or Prussia.’

‘Wait, you have another sibling?’ Prussia asked in surprise.

‘Yup, he’s our cutest little brother! He resembles me and Roma in appearance and he loves pasta and pizza and girl and pasta sauce and tomatoes and pasta and pizza… he wants to be independent from Italy though.’

‘I couldn’t think of any reason why he would ever want that.’ Germany said sarcastically.

‘You’re a meanie!’ Feliciano pouted. ‘Still, you two should come by and meet him some day, he’d like that, mainly because you’re both hot.’

‘No but seriously, how did you get in here?’ Germany asked, changing the topic. He knew that there might never be a future visit and didn’t want his friend to get his hopes up. He also purposely ignored the Italian’s flirtatious remark.

‘…I might have flirted with the guards just a little bit. I mean, what else was I going to do, huh? As an Italian I always need to use my dazzling, overwhelming charms! And just look at my face; I’m practically an artwork, am I not? So devilishly handsome I am. This beauty I have, why should I not use it? It’s what I inherited from grandpa Rome after all.’

‘Well, some people would certainly disagree.’ Germany muttered under his breath. Feliciano’s ego was nearly as bad as Prussia’s

‘Haha! Ooh, Feli you’re a legend. No one would guess that pussy Austria raised you; you’re _almost_ as awesome as me and little West over here! You can really tell that you’re related to Francis and Antonio when it comes to things like this!’

‘You are unbelievable.’ Germany sighed. ‘I would have made you run _at least_ 50 laps for that. Do you have anything how dangerous this stunt is!? How did you know they were even into men in the first place! Your strategy was not planned out well!’

‘No! I don’t wanna run! Germanyyy~!’ Feliciano cried.

‘You don’t have to; the war is over and done with. You can just slack of like you usually do now. Not that all the hard work I put into our training ever paid off for us.’ Germany replied, slightly annoyed. ‘Right now you should be concerned about your safety, I take it that none of the allies or Romano know you’re here?’

‘I guess that’s true, but…’

‘We should slack off together, Feli!’ Prussia interrupted. ‘Man, I could totally use a beer right now. Do you think they’d give me one if I asked?’

‘No. You’re annoying when you’re drunk.’ Germany replied.

‘Hey now, that was just unnecessary!’

‘I would say that your whole existence is unnecessary, but that would be mean.’

‘Excuse me--! You wanna go, huh!?’ Prussia yelled, jumping into a fighting stance.

Germany just sighed.

‘Noooo~ stop fighting!’

There was a knock on the door. ‘Mr. Italy, you’ve got to get out now. The ten minutes are over.’

‘I’m sorry, I have to go now, or these scary men will get mad. Germany~ can I have a goodbye-kiss?’ Feliciano asked.

‘Fine.’ Germany replied after spending years with Italy he’d learned that going along with the brunette’s strange habits was far easier than protesting against them. He proceeded to give his Italian friend a small kiss on the cheek, Feliciano returned the favor by fiercely kissing Germany’s forehead, hugging him tightly.

‘I love you, Germany~!’

‘Ja, ja, I know.’ The blond said as he awkwardly hugged the smaller man back.

‘Oh Feli~ will you give me a kiss too?’ Prussia asked cheekily, pouting his lips in a playful manner.

‘Yup!’ Feliciano replied and rushed over to give the white-haired man a kiss on the cheek. ‘I love you as well, Prussia!’

‘Mein Gott; You’re so cute!’ Prussia squealed. ‘I love you too, little Feli! Take good care of yourself and be a good boy, ja?’

‘Of course!’ Feliciano replied. He was already nearly crying; he hated goodbyes, but he knew he really had to go now, or the allies would suspect him of betrayal. As he made his way towards the door, walking even slower than he normally did, and finally turning the knob, Germany spoke up one last time.

‘Italy, I’m sorry for everything I’ve dragged you into. I wish I could make it up to you somehow…’ Germany said his voice was weirdly soft and filled with remorse.

‘There is only one thing I want from you right now; survive, both of you.’ Feliciano said with a bright, well-meant smile as he closed the door behind him. As soon as the heavy steel door fell back in its’ lock, tears rolled down his cheeks.

_‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’_ The brunet mentally told himself.

‘Next time you come by, bring me some beer, will ya!?’ Prussia yelled just before the door was fully closed. Feliciano giggled, Prussia was just so funny, always, no matter the circumstances. He was always so nice to him. He would definitely smuggle in some beer for him the next time he visited.

God, Lovino was going to be _so_ pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Please leave a comment if you can; I would appreciate it very much!  
> See you next time.


	3. Boy and the ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeya! I'm back with a new chapter! It took a damn while, but here it finally is. Please enjoy!

‘Prussia, I have not been able to shake this off ever since Italy visited us. There’s something that just doesn’t add up to me; it’s about time you told me the truth. What happened to our brother? France killed him, right? But then in the meeting hall you addressed to me as if I were him. Why did you do that? And why haven’t I ever heard of him?’ Ludwig said. It had been a couple of hours since Italy left, maybe shorter, maybe longer. The blond couldn’t tell now that he was in a windowless room with not even as much as a pocket watch to tell him the time.

Prussia visibly paled, if that was even possible given his usual white complexion. Ludwig took it as a confirmation of what he was already thinking. ‘You know something I don’t.’ He said sternly. ‘Out with it. Now.’

The white haired man sighed deeply. ‘You’re right; it’s about time I told you. I made a pact with France, Hungary and Austria to never tell anything to Feli or you… but now that I might die soon, I feel like I need to get it out before it’s too late. But, West? Please don’t get mad at me for hiding this from you; we really thought that this was for the best.’

‘I can’t promise that; you know me.’

‘Right, that’s true.’ Prussia chuckled.

‘Don’t make fun of my anger issues.’

‘Fine, fine. I have a question first; do you remember our father at all? Do you remember the little cottage in which we lived? How he used to go hunting and how I had to look after you while he was away? How he looked exactly like you do now, but with long hair? How we used to celebrate Christmas together?’ Prussia asked. ‘Or do you remember _anything_ of your early childhood?’

‘…I’m ashamed to say that I don’t. All I know of him is from the stories that you used to tell me when I was a child and I don’t recall anything at all from before the time my bodily age was about… 10 years, I’d say.’ Ludwig replied. He didn’t really understand human aging all that well and found it hard to place age to a person, usually guessing them to be much, much older than they actually were. Human children were expected to be completely grown up after just 18 years, while his brother had been a child for over 4 centuries. So he could only take a vague guess at his bodily age from when he came to be.

‘Alright then, it seems that I’ve got a lot of explaining to do; so the Holy Roman Empire was first founded in the 9th century. I was already alive at the time, I was Germania’s first-born, but despite him having been a major power, only second to the Roman Empire, I was just a tiny group of humans with no official country to represent, I was kind of the family disappointment, dad still cared about me though. He was a good person like that. But still when Holy Rome, his human name was Raimund which is kind of a weird name nowadays, but it’s just an old-ass name, was born dad was happy to see that he was destined to be a big empire, despite his foundation being relatively weak, he was still a major power in Europe for nearly a millennium. But because of his brilliance and rapidly growing house, dad was starting to get kinda worried that I would die soon because I would no longer be relevant. Well, guess what?’

‘What?’ Ludwig replied dryly, for he already knew what kind of answer he was to expect.

‘Even back then I was awesome as hell! I kept on living, then in the 12th century the St. Maria order was formed and I got to represent them. Holy Rome went to live in Austria’s house, or more like, he took over his house and bossed him around despite being a literal toddler, can you imagine?’ Prussia cackled.

Ludwig had to admit; the idea of the ever so tight-up Austria being bossed around by a toddler was extremely hilarious. ‘To be honest, I can’t imagine, but at the same time I can totally see it happen.’

‘I know right? Anyway, so little Mr. Holy Rome was bossing in Austria’s house and he met Italy there, because Austria used him as his personal slave. Hungary used to dress Italy like a little girl, so Holy Rome believed him to be one and he fell in love and tried to get Italy to join his empire. Everyone warned him against it, but he wouldn’t listen. His love for Italy lasted for hundreds of years and caused his house to crumble, but Raimund just didn’t care at all, the stubborn little fucker he was. He wanted Italy to join his empire to recreate the greatness of the ancient Roman Empire, but little Italy had watched his grandfather die because he had been too strong; he had to tend to his many wounds so he refused Raimund’s offer and said he should give up on his dream, because he liked him as he was and didn’t want to see his fall apart like his grandfather had done.’

‘I had no idea Italy had to go through something like that. He always seems so happy and carefree.’ Ludwig said, perplexed at the revelation. ‘He never spoke of it to me.’

‘Feli just knows how to mask it, but he’s been hurt too many times in his life. Anyway, it runs in our family to seek power above sense, so Raimund decided to go through with his plans of becoming the new Roman Empire despite the warnings and plunged himself into battle. On the day he left Austria’s house Italy gave him a push broom as parting gift and they then had their first and only kiss. The promised that they’d meet again and really believed it. After that Holy Rome marched straight towards his death, a 30 year long war occurred. I should have been there for him more, but I was too busy with my own things, causing France to be able to strike the final blow.’ Prussia said. ‘I still haven’t forgiven myself or him for that. Gott, just imagine that your best friend would kill your brother. Imagine that Italy would kill me, how would you feel?’ He said in a sharp voice. The sound of it was laced with pain.

Ludwig didn’t know what to say, he would probably be more than torn apart. He had never known Prussia had lived through something like this. He couldn’t imagine how losing someone so close to you must feel, he really was just so young after all. The idea of someone you regarded as your closest friend killing someone so dear to you was almost too painful to handle. Ludwig was surprised that Prussia could even talk normally to France, then again they weren’t human. It was their job to seek and destroy in order to gain absolution; France could hardly be blamed for what he did.

‘However he wasn’t dead, everyone just assumed he was. I found him on the battlefield; he was alive, but only barely. It was a heartbreaking sight, a little child lying alone on the cold hard ground, bleeding and not even crying in fear because he had already weakened too much. I took him in and cared for him for several decades until he eventually went into a coma, getting ready to die.’ He paused. ‘I spent years sitting at his bedside, reading him stories, watching him cough up blood after everything he did. He was such a tough little boy, trying to stand strong, trying to keep the empire together, scrape up the pieces despite the fact that his body was literally rotting away from the inside. We repeatedly told him to stay in bed, but he wouldn’t listen. He’d still show up on meetings, taking the lead after which he’d always collapse and bleed from the inside. Mein Gott, did I look up to him for that, he’s the strongest person I’ve ever laid eyes on. So I decided that if he didn’t give up, I wouldn’t either. So I tried, I really did but… it just- it just…’

‘FUCK, IT WASN’T ENOUGH GODDAMNIT!’ Prussia snapped in wretchedness. He punched the frame of the bed and let out a curse as he injured his hand in the process, hissing and blowing cold air on the painful spot. ‘ _I failed_.’ He whispered afterwards. ‘The awesome me failed at something as stupid as protecting a child.’

Ludwig saw his brother’s eyes spilling over with hot tears. Prussia rarely cried. His face had never looked so angry before, so helpless and utterly, completely miserable. Holy Rome’s death was still a very stinging matter for him, even after all these years. Ludwig started to see it now; Prussia blamed himself for not being good or smart enough to save that little boy. He didn’t know what to say or how to comfort his brother; it was too difficult to think of anything that would be plausible. Ludwig had never been the best with words that weren’t about strategies or business, so he just reached out his arm and squeezed the rough, scarred hand of his big brother, it was probably not as tender as he’d meant too, but he tried. However, Prussia had quickly recollected himself and dried his tears with the hem of his shirt, smiling at his brother’s touch, showing the appreciation for the small gesture. He sniffed loudly, just once, before continuing his story as if nothing had happened. (Except for the fact that he was clutching his injured hand, Ludwig made a mental note that he’d have to check if it was broken later.)

‘Alright, so I didn’t want to lose my little brother, despite knowing that I probably would, so I decided to unify the Germanic nations to recreate the Holy Roman Empire as much as possible, but that meant I kinda had to convince all the other nations to join, but that would mean they’d all disappear… yeah, maybe not my most awesome move. But they still agreed that combining our strengths to one would give us benefit. I fought Austria over the ruler ship, because Austria was like “No way, Prussia. You suck and can’t rule because you’re a dumb madman!” and I was like “No fuck you, ass-face! I do what I want, you homo!” So we went to war and then the awesome me won, of course. I had the help of my squad, Antonio and Francis totally had my back, man did we beat Austria good. It was like a huge, dramatic custody-trial between a divorced couple, except we were like… brothers and stuff.’

Ludwig rolled his eyes at the wacky explanation of the war between his two older siblings Prussia provided him.

‘That’s how you managed to get custody over me, then. So I was born after the Austro-Prussian wars?’ Ludwig started to get nervous; this part of the story sounded a bit too familiar to him; Prussia had told it to him countless times before; it was the story of his birth. The story of how he came to be as the German Empire. ‘This is the story of my birth, isn’t it? I’ve heard this before. You’re going to tell me I took his place, aren’t you?’

‘Well, yes, but not exactly. So remember how you were kind of 10 years old when you became a nation? Yeah...’

‘Yeah, what? Just finish your story, Prussia. This guesswork is hurting my head.’ Ludwig said; his eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, a sign that he wanted his brother to just get to the point already. He nervously fumbled with his hands, which were starting to get clammy; he did not like the direction where this story was heading. He half-expected what would be coming next, but he still wasn’t prepared to hear it said out loud.

‘I was expecting for Holy Rome to have disappeared when you were being created and so I went to clean out his room to make it ready for the new baby I was expecting to turn up soon, which was going to be you, but when I entered the room, he was wide awake and sitting upright in bed, calmly reading the book I used to read him from. I was hyper-excited, because my brother was alive! So I ran towards him to give him a hug…’ Prussia gulped and closed his eyes, breathing slowly. ‘He didn’t remember _anything_ , not me, not Italy and not even that faithful battle. Raimund’s eyes had changed, they used to be a deep, dark ocean-blue, but they were sky-blue now; I knew these eyes, but at the same time I didn’t. I knew that it was my brother in that bed, but he had become a different person. He just stared into my eyes and politely said “I’m the German empire. I’m sorry, but who are you?” I’m not sure if your soul just took over his body somehow, or if you two actually are the same person, but I do know that you two have the same body.’ He finished his story while staring at his hands.

For a few seconds it was completely silent, not even distant voices or footsteps were heard. Ludwig didn’t even breathe; he felt a deep-rooted panic rising up within himself, a panic he’d always felt but suppressed had now become reality. His body had never been his. He was an intruder to his own body; he had forced that child out.

‘My whole life I’ve been living inside the body of a _dead child_? I’m a basically a walking corpse?’ Ludwig hissed. He wasn’t mad that Prussia hadn’t said anything to him before; it might have been better if he hadn’t ever found out. No, he was yelling because he was scared.

He had never been this scared before, his whole life he’d been living in a lie, the people closest to him must have always seen him as their lost brother/friend instead of having seen him as Germany. Suddenly he was much and much older than he’d thought he was; his age had just been multiplied with ten. Who was he really, was he Germany or Holy Roman Empire, Ludwig or Raimund? There was so much he didn’t know anymore; he barely knew himself. Who had he been all these hundreds of years? Had he always been as cruel and merciless as he had been during the war? And what in God’s name would he ever tell Italy? “Hey Italy, it’s me your best friend, but I’m actually living inside the dead body of your long lost childhood love”? How creepy could something possibly sound? He was breathing heavily, resting his face against the sweaty palms of his hands, his entire body shaking.

‘I’m so sorry, West. I should have said something right after you woke up, but I just-’ Prussia sighed. He looked defeated.

‘No, sorry it’s fine. I’m not angry with you, it was just the shock. You were right for once; it might have been better if I’d never found out. Still, thank you for telling me I’m glad I got to find out who I really am before my death. I understand now that you didn’t rob me off my childhood; I just don’t remember the one I’d already had.’ The blond spoke softly. ‘You know, I’ve always blamed you for giving me a gun rather than a toy to play with, but I can’t anymore. I get it now.’ Ludwig confessed.

It was something he’d never told anyone before, how traumatizing the whole experience had been for him. Waking up one day in a body that had already grown up so much, being expected to be mature despite just having been born, being the perfect soldier right from the bat. It was frightening, not knowing the people who claimed to be his kin, being expected to grow up so fast. The body had never felt quite right; it had never felt like it was completely _his_ and now he understood why that had been.

There had always been _something_ lurking beside him. The dark shadow of a small figure; a figure that appeared to be wearing either a dress or a cloak. It was always there, but whenever Ludwig would turn to look at it, the shadow would disappear. It would also speak sometimes; it would whisper to him at night, a child’s voice with a Latin-like accent mixed in with old-fashioned German. The youthful voice was always stripped of any kindness; only cold malice could be heard. It would ask him to leave, ask him to go away and ask him to give “it” back. Ludwig now knew who that shadow represented and what “it” was that he wanted; the shadow was referring to _his_ body, he wanted it back. He had never told anyone of the shadow he’d been seeing all this time, he just assumed that he was either getting insane or that everyone had a shadow like that besides them.

He felt bad for taking something that was so important to that child, but he knew that it was impossible to give it back. There was a blinding wall between them, one that could never be broken. He was alive while that child was dead, or at least that’s what he seemed to believe. Were they really two separate entities or was Holy Rome simply a fragment of his own mind that had gotten estranged from the rest? What if it unified again and all the memories came back at once? What if Prussia’s story had triggered the spirit of that child to take his revenge on him?

‘No, I should still apologize to you for that. I should have handled it better, I should have given you time. I just assumed that your maturity would be at the same point where Holy Rome’s lay before he passed away, but you’re not the same. I mean technically you are, but all of Raimund’s existence has been wiped away from your mind, so of course you’re not the same. I should have known. You two just look the same, that’s all. I shouldn’t have expected of a child to be the perfect soldier.’

‘You couldn’t have known. It’s a situation that’s nearly too unbelievable to be reality. It makes sense you didn’t know how to handle it. I could get really angry at you for all of this if I wanted to, but… I’ve been angry more than enough lately. Let’s just get along for now. So who else knows about this?’

‘Not many, just me, France, Hungary and Austria. Hungary and Austria, but mainly Hungary, helped me to take care of you as you were dying. I told France only so his guilt would make him feel obliged to give me money to pay for your medicine. We patched things up though, I didn’t let it ruin our friendship; he was just following orders from above. I think he held back during the fight and that you survived because of that. He couldn’t kill you, the brother of his best friend and the beloved of his younger brother.’

‘Oh.’ Ludwig replied. ‘What about Italy?’

‘He doesn’t know. You can tell him if you want, it’s up to you now, but maybe he does know. Italy certainly doesn’t act it, but he’s not stupid and his artsy mind has extreme eye for detail. He might have recognized your body straight away.’

‘Do you think he’ll jump straight back into my arms if I told him? Do you think he’d immediately love me if he knew?’ Ludwig knew that this probably would not be the case, Italy would blame him for taking the place of that child, in a sense it was him who ended the life of that little boy. He had stolen his body, his heart and the person Italy had loved most away from him.

‘No, I don’t believe so, he said he moved on. But I can’t be sure, love is a weird thing.’ Prussia said kindly, then in a much sharper tone he added; ‘There is one thing you should understand. You are _not_ Raimund and Raimund is _not_ you. You are Germany, or if you want to hear it full-out; Ludwig Rüdiger Gilbert Beilschmidt; Deutschland. You are your very own person and that’s how everyone sees you. It took me a while to accept it, but Raimund is really dead after all. You are you and I love you for that, I no longer think of you as him. You shouldn’t think that way either, this past of yours; it doesn’t define you. Promise me you’ll stay yourself.’ The white-haired man firmly placed his hands on Ludwig’s shoulders, looking him straight into the eye.

Ludwig didn’t reply.

‘I know. I know that you love Italy. I’ve known for a while now and I’m sure that he loves you too, but he doesn’t love you because of your old life, he adores you in the here and now. He loves Germany. Don’t try to win his heart by pretending to be someone you’re not.’

‘W-what are you saying!? We’re friends; I don’t feel about him in _that_ way!’ Ludwig protested.

‘Dude, you literally proposed to him once, remember.’ Prussia laughed.

‘Ja, but that was out of consideration for him and because of a wacky book that _you_ wrote. I just mistook his overly touchy-feely gestures towards me as romantic! But I was wrong, so it’s something of the past! Besides, we’re of the same sex, so it’s not even legal. _If_ I were to have feelings for Italy. _If._ ’ Ludwig snapped back.

‘Come on, it’s fine. You won’t be arrested; you won’t be deported anymore for these feelings. The war is over, that nutcase is gone. You can finally be honest with yourself, accepting that you’re gay, that is.’ Prussia said kindly. ‘Come on now; tell big brother Prussia all about your crush! I ain’t gonna judge ya, you know? I’ve had my fair share of crushes on men.’

‘Prussia, please stop it.’ Ludwig said. He felt his face grow hot. ‘There’s still a law that forbids that type of thing, you know?’

‘We’re not human, so who cares about those dumbass laws, have you forgotten nations marry all the time regardless of sex? Fucking Austria married Spain, you know? But oh well then, if you don’t have a crush on Italy anyway, you wouldn’t mind me asking him out on a date, right? We’d make an awesomely adorable couple for sure.’

‘You wouldn’t dare..!’ Ludwig said.

‘Oh, what’s that?’ Prussia said with a grin. He raised one of his white eyebrows. ‘Are you jealous at the thought of me being all lovey-dovey with Italy, West?’

‘Well, you’re not _really_ in love with him; you just think he’s cute, so of course I’ll be pissed if you started dating him under those false conditions of yours!’ Germany bit back. ‘Besides, aren’t you crushing on Miss Hungary?’

‘Well, ja I guess, but it’s not like that will _ever_ happen. She kind of hates me and she’s kind of the ex-wife of stupid Austria, who is my brother whether I like it or not. That would just be disgraceful. And besides that, I can crush on two people at the same time, you know? I’ve always been very fond of little Feli!’

‘Your fondness of him is simply perverted. And if Italy used to have a thing with Holy Rome and Holy Rome was your brother, doesn’t that put him in that same category as Miss Hungary?’ Germany noted. ‘And _if_ I were to like him _now_ , wouldn’t that too?’

‘Well, you do have a point there… I can’t really disagree with you now. Italy is kind of your ex, huh?’

‘Don’t put it like that, I was just a child back then and it’s not like I remember.’ Ludwig inhaled deeply before continuing. ‘About that… that child, I think he’s been haunting me. For as long as I can remember there has been something next to me. Whispering to me at night, telling me to give it back. He’s always lurking in the corners only to disappear when I look in his direction. I’ve always assumed it was the spirit of a child whose family had died at my hands, but I suppose now that he’s actually been… _me_ all this time.’

‘You’re serious?’ Prussia asked. ‘That creepy little bastard, he looked like an angel, but he surely wasn’t.’

‘Yes, even now he’s right here, sitting in that corner beside you.’

‘Oi, little one. You need to stop this; it’s not nice to haunt people, you know? Italy would not have liked you doing that. And you’re kind of scaring me, y’know?’ Prussia said in a firm voice, gesturing at the empty corner. Naturally the shadow didn’t reply and just remained there in complete stillness.

‘I think he’s just waiting to take back what used to be his.’ Ludwig said, staring at his hands.

‘He should’ve realized by now that that’s impossible, it’s been a century.

‘He’s just a child; he probably doesn’t even realize that his wish is impossible.’

‘You know… Holy Rome had always been very stubborn and he never lied. I think he’s just extremely desperate to keep his promise to Italy. He never grew up, so he’s probably still waiting, not knowing that Italy has already moved on… I feel bad for him.’ Prussia said with a sad smile.

‘It’s unfair, isn’t it?’

‘Yes… it is.’’

They just sat there in an uncomfortable silence. They weren’t men of words, they weren’t men of emotion. They had no idea how to act right now. Ludwig stared at the wall, counting the bricks, thinking of that child he once had been, wondering about him, wondering about Italy. Prussia wasn’t really doing anything either; he was probably counting those stupid bricks as well. Ludwig knew that this silence had to be broken eventually, he was thinking hard of something he could say, something he could do to make the silence end.

‘Let me take a look at that injured hand of yours.’ Ludwig said in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope this was enjoyable.  
> I'd love to hear all of your thoughts through Kudo's or comments!  
> See you next time!


	4. Storm in a glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeya!  
> Now that I am in quarantine for the next couple of days I have lots of time to write! (Don't worry, I do not have the Corona-virus, my province has just called measures that everyone with mild health issues such as a runny nose, coughing or a fever have to stay home until 24 hours after the last complaints because a lot of the cases here aren't traceable. I just have a cold.)  
> This chapter is a bit short, but it's cute. Enjoy!

Feliciano quietly sneaked through the front-door, startled when he heard voices coming from the living room.

‘Toni, I’m just so done with this bullshit. Why can’t Vene just make rational decisions? Not even once?’ It was Lovino’s voice, but Feliciano could tell that his brother was quite drunk; he never called Spain by that nickname when sober. He would rather be found dead than doing that.

‘You don’t have to be so worried all the time, hear that? Italy has already come home. Maybe you should slow down on the wine a bit, no?’

‘Don’t tell me what to do, you jerk-bastard.’ Lovino replied louder than necessary.

‘Roma, please, you don’t need to worry anymore, so put the glass away now.’

‘You’re not my mom, so just put a sock in it and pour me another glass, asshole.’

‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’ Spain replied.

Shyly Feliciano made his way into the living room, trying to avoid any form of conversation with the two people present. Lovino’s face was flushed red, the buttons of his military uniform were askew and he rested his feet on the coffee-table, with his shoes (shiny, dark brown combat-boots with a platform/heel because Lovino had a bit of a height-complex) still on (he’d usually scold Feliciano for doing just that) and he was practically hanging off Spain (who just let Lovino do as he pleased like he always did), sipping red wine from a Christmas-mug. Feliciano tried to get by unnoticed, but he had never been the type to be subtle at anything, so of course he failed.

‘Oh, if it isn’t my stupid little fratello, where the fuck have you been, huh?’ Lovino slurred aggressively, his thin, perfectly trimmed eyebrows twitching in anger. ‘I bet you were trying to get into that damn potato’s pants again, you little… bastard.’

‘Oh Romano, don’t be like that. I’m sure Italy did no such thing, right? You shouldn’t call your brother a bastard, besides there is no shame being in love with someone.’ Spain said, in order to try to remain the peace in the house.

‘Well, love can be wrong. For example if you’re a grown-ass man falling for a child that is, wait for it, your damn relative.’ He glared at Spain with fire in his eyes. ‘Or if you’re in love with a goddamn Nazi! Huh, don’t you think that dream boy of yours would have deported you to some shady work-camp if he uncovered your little secret?’ Lovino hissed.

‘But…’ Feliciano began. The words from his older brother hurt; they cut deep into his heart. ‘You know what, Romano? Fine. Have it your way then. You’re right; I love him. I’ve done so for longer than you could possibly know. You’ve never accepted me for who I was, the friends I had were never good enough for you, I’m done. I’ll just leave and become a “fucking bastard”, if that’s how you see me.’ He said, but he couldn’t get through his words without crying.

‘Yeah, do just that. I’m not gonna bail you from prison! Besides, I bet that potato doesn’t even care about you anyway. God, I hope he’s straight.’

‘Boys! Stop fighting, please!’ Spain said. ‘Roma, it’s time for you to go to bed now, don’t you think? I’ll talk to Italy for a bit, okay? You’ve had a rough day and you’re saying things you don’t mean, you’ll regret this if you stay here.’ He said as he hoisted the drunk man upstairs.

Lovino didn’t protest any further, angrily kicking off his shoes on the way to his bedroom.

\---

‘Toni… you’re a dick, you know?’ Romano said; his syllables unclear because of the alcohol. ‘A big, fat tomato sucking bastard-asshole. Why can’t you ever just leave me alone, huh? You horse fucker.’ He sounded tired and sad, he was probably even crying. He was leaning his full weight on the other man’s shoulders; Spain made sure that Romano wouldn’t fall over now that his walking was so unsteady.

‘It’s only because I care about you, Roma. You’ll always be my little brother, nothing will change that. Italy too, he loves you.’

‘Like there’s anything I can accomplish with love, stupid jerk. It’s not like love is gonna fix the economy now, will it?’

‘Love can give you more than you think it can, Roma.’ Spain said with a sad smile. ‘Now get into bed.’

‘Well then don’t just stand there! Turn around so I can change, you pervert!’ Romano said. ‘If I as much as suspect that you’re looking this way I _will_ snap your neck and hide your body where the cops will _never_ find it.’

‘Loud and clear.’ Spain replied. He turned around and faced the plain walls of Romano’s bedroom. He knew Romano and he knew that these weren’t empty threats. The mafia ran deep in his home, so it also ran deep through his veins. Despite being one of the biggest cowards on the planet Romano could kill without a trace; feed the body to the pigs so nothing could ever be recovered. Compared to that his younger brother was a lot more innocent, but then again, Veneziano had always been fond of poison and there wasn’t a person alive that could handle swords better than he could. Italy was a weird, weird country.

‘Okay you can turn around now.’ Romano said when several minutes had passed.

When he turned around he saw that he had already lain down under the covers, they were pulled up all the way until his chin, with his back stubbornly turned towards the other man in the room.

‘Hey, jerky-jerk face?’ The Italian said after a while.

‘What’s it Roma?’

‘Will you stay until I fall asleep, like when I was small?’ He asked shyly, not facing him.

‘Of course, I’d do anything for you. You know that.’ Spain said with a smile. He sat down on the edge of his brother’s bed. He slowly caressed Romano’s dark, chocolate brown hair, removing the strands from his face; he let his hand slide down over his forehead. His tanned skin was hot against his palm, almost feverish. It must have been today’s stress and the wine. After a while, Romano’s breathing slowed down and Spain decided to go downstairs and see if Italy needed to be checked up upon, but just as he turned out the lights Romano spoke.

‘Why didn’t you help us out during the war? You thought you could just sit this one out, huh? You should have been on my side, we would have been able to win, the potato sucking bastard wouldn’t have to die if you’d just supported us, Vene wouldn’t have been so sad now.’ There was malice in his voice, he sounded clear and sober. What Romano said now was meant. Every single word of it.

‘Shhh, Roma it’s alright. I just did what was best for my people. I couldn’t support the axis, you know what happened there. I’m also not as powerful as I used to be, the axis still would have lost the war even if I’d been with you. We were both better off with the allies.’

‘Vene could have been happy, goddamn it! He and potato could have been happily together in some stupid looking cute German house in the mountains with a cozy fire and like 5 dogs and 3 cats right now. But no, instead I’m here in my bed crying like a little bitch to a man I loathe, Vene is downstairs weeping his eyes out because of what I said earlier and potato is sitting in some cold-ass dirty cell together with his potato-brother and they’re facing torture and a slow death. I hate this.’

‘It’s not your fault, Lovino. We all say mean things when we’re drunk, God, you should have heard the things Gilbert has slurred towards Francis over the past two centuries. I’m sure Italy doesn’t blame you. He’s just a bit sad right now, but he’ll have forgiven you before the sun has risen.’ Spain said. He purposely used his given name instead of his title, to make him feel at ease.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Definitely.’ Spain smiled.

Romano relaxed a bit, but he was still tense.

‘You know what, Lovino? I think it would be good for you to let go of your pointless malice towards Germany and Gilbert.’

‘How could I possibly not hate someone who looks _exactly_ like the man that killed our grandfather and the boy who broke my brother’s heart? And do I even need to start on explaining why I don’t like that pale potato?’

‘Germany can’t help the way he looks. It’s not fair to hate him just because of that and I get that Gilbert can be a bit… intense, but he’s a good guy.’

‘He’s feral, Spain. Completely, 100% feral.’

‘Yes, fine. It’s true, I can’t deny that,’ Spain admitted. ‘But that’s what I like about him. He’s always in for an adventure, yes, he’ll scratch out the eyes of people he doesn’t like and yes, he’ll bite. He’s a madman in most senses, but he also has this caring side to him. Gilbert would do anything for his brother. When you were younger and Holy Rome was still alive Gilbert was always doting on him like a proud parent, he made that serious little thing smile brighter than the sun. After his death Gilbert was completely devastated and then when Germany was born he became even more protective, he took the poor child everywhere, even when we went drinking with France. In a sense, Germany was more like our mother than a small child that accompanied us on our wild adventures. He’d drag our drunk asses home and make us dinner. That’s why no matter what they might have done, I will never be able to hate them. In my eyes Germany will always be the same boy from back then and Gilbert will always be one of my most precious friends. They’re not monsters and I strongly believe they would have never allowed the things Germany’s boss enforced if they’d gotten a choice.’

‘You know, I wish I could like them, just for Vene’s sake. But I just can’t do that, it lies too deep. I’ve hated them for far too long. It’s not like I want to see my brother and potato suck face.’ Romano said with a grossed-out expression on his face. Spain chuckled.

‘Would you support your brother if he wanted to date Germany?’

‘Of course I would! I don’t care that he’s into men or something, that’s his own business. Grandpa always thought me that men loving other men and women loving other women isn’t weird or wrong, you just need to do your own thing and not interfere with others and I believe him. I just think Vene could have picked some better guy to fall for.’

‘Is that so? I can hardly think of anyone that would be able to protect him better than Germany. He has no secret ulterior motives and isn’t a mindless pervert… he’s also handsome.’ Spain said.

‘If I hear you say that that potato is handsome one more time I’m going to barf. He looks so gross and overly manly with that stupid haircut and all those muscles! The fucker looks like those damn marble statues I recovered from my grandpa’s basement! It doesn’t matter what he does or how he looks; he’s just not good enough for my brother, you hear me?’

‘Roma, you can’t be so protective of Italy forever. He’s not a child anymore and he can make his own decisions. Those two… there’s destiny between them; I can feel it. They’re meant to be whether you like it or not.’

‘Have you been smoking weed with Netherlands again or something? You’re talking bullcrap about “destiny” and stuff.’

‘I have not smoked weed with him lately! This is just how I really feel.’

‘You need serious help.’

‘No, no! Roma, you need to stop being so mean to your brother and truly accept him.’

‘I accept Vene and his preference for blond guys with blue eyes and a dumb German accent; I just don’t accept the potato as a possible brother in law.’

‘You really are hopelessly stubborn, huh?’

‘You literally raised me, you should know by now what I’m like, you bastard. Besides, he will leave Vene soon enough anyway, as he’s going to either die or disappear into some prison for the next century. Vene will just be left alone again, getting his heart broken once again. Those fucking Germans are always toying with my brother.’

‘Come on, it’s not like that at all! You know that that boy would have stayed with Feli if he could. It’s war that drove him to his death and Germany would stay too, if he could. You know that I’m right, don’t you?’

‘It doesn’t matter what the reasons are, Spain. All that matters is that those bastards broke Vene into pieces. The little fucker didn’t even smile anymore, Spain. I don’t want to see him go through that again.’

‘Your heart is in the right place, Roma. You really care about your brother, but you also need to realize that the heart wants what it wants; you can’t change that with your will. It’s entirely up to Feli to decide what he wants to do with his feelings for Germany, no matter how much you’d want to, you cannot decide those things for him.’

‘Well, I sure wish I could. No leave me alone, bastard. I’m tired as shit.’

‘Sure, sure. Goodnight to you, Roma.’

The reply was a flashed middle finger.

\---

Feliciano sunk himself down onto the couch and exhaled loudly, he was deeply exhausted. He felt ashamed for snapping, he wasn’t the type to get angry just like that. He knew that Lovino was just drunk, that he had been very worried and was saying things without actually meaning them. He supposed that it was mostly his own fault for sneaking away to visit Germany and Prussia. He poured himself a glass of water and sat back down on the couch to wait for his other big brother to come back down.

Feliciano was still amazed by how well Spain could handle Lovino, but that must have been a result of the fact that he practically raised him from early childhood until he was a teenager. He swirled the glass, looking at the movements of the water. Had he really said it out loud? He supposed that he had. It would undoubtedly put him in a dangerous situation, loving the enemy despite everything they’d caused. If Lovino or Spain told any of this to the other allies, Feliciano would certainly receive some harsh backlash. He doubted they’d open their mouths, but it was still dangerous, there could be spyware in the house to track his conversations.

‘Italy? Roma is asleep; he went out like a light. Do you want to go for a stroll as we talk?’ Spain said after coming down. He’d been up there with Lovino for a bit more than two hours and it was completely dark by now.

Feliciano didn’t want to walk, he was too tired, but he supposed that the night air would do him good; it might help him to clear his head. ‘Yes, that sounds nice!’ He replied with a faked smile placed on his face. He jumped up from the couch and picked up his coat from the floor.

They walked in silence until Spain broke the silence. ‘You went to see them, didn’t you? How is Germany doing? And Gilbert?’ He asked. From his voice he could tell that he didn’t judge him for doing so.

‘Yeah, I did. I couldn’t help myself, it felt wrong not to go. They’re fine given the circumstances, I think. Germany is really thin now and keeps refusing his food, so I’m a bit worried, but Gilbert looks the same as usual, only a bit dirtier and with a bit more bruises than he’d usually have. They’ve had a big fallout during the meeting though. The allies want to dissolve Germany, but Prussia got crazy mad; I’ve never seen him like that before! So scary! He started saying that he wanted to die in Germany’s place, something about feeling guilty over what happened to Holy Rome, I suppose. Of course Germany wasn’t content with that and protested against it. There’s a strong tension between them now.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Spain replied. ‘Poor Gilbert, he’s still blaming himself over all that, huh?’

‘Yes, he is.’ Feliciano sighed. ‘He shouldn’t, if anything it was Holy Rome’s own mistake to engage in that war. He shouldn’t have left, not while he knew he wasn’t strong enough.’

‘Germany wouldn’t have been born if it wasn’t for his death, is that something you’d be content with?’ Spain asked. The question made Feliciano feel uneasy, it was basically the same as asking whom he loved most; it was near impossible to answer it. A forbidden question to ask.

‘I don’t know… I don’t think I could live without Germany now, but I do think I would have been happy if Holy Rome hadn’t died, I think we’d still be together, even. What we had ran deeper than it should have… considering that we were no more than children. It was a real love and I can’t imagine falling out of love with him as long as he was alive, but… I can’t imagine not falling in love with Germany, either.’ Feliciano said.

‘I see, I think that makes sense.’ Spain replied.

‘You know? Sometimes I can’t help but see them as if they’re the same person. Those eyes, that determination, that strength, that smile and the awkward gestures… they’re almost too similar. I know it’s stupid. They just look alike because they’re brothers. If Prussia had been born without his condition he would have looked just like that too without a doubt. But it’s just so uncanny sometimes. It’s like my childhood love is right there in front of me, but still completely out of reach. Still gone. But at the same time it’s the person I love right now and that makes things so confusing, since I keep telling myself that I’m over my feelings for Holy Rome. Do I love Germany or do I love who he resembles?’

‘Say, what would you do if they somehow ended up being the same person? I’m just curious after your answer.’

‘I don’t know… I guess part of me would be delighted to be reunited with him and run straight towards him, I am impulsive and emotional like that, you know? I would be so happy that he was able to keep his promise to me after all, but on the other hand, what would it _really_ change? I’ve secretly thought about this scenario many times before. Even if they were the same person, I think I’d still love Germany and not the person he used to be, if that makes sense. They might have the same body, but they’re different people. Just like how I’m not the same person compared to when I was a child…’ Feliciano did say those words thoughtfully and as honest as he could, but he also doubted their truth.

‘Wow, you really are a lot smarter than your big brother for sure.’

‘Come now Spain, that’s mean! Romano is smart when it comes to other things, Romano is street-smart. He’s good at things that don’t involve romance or cleaning or art.’ Feliciano giggled. ‘Say Spain, is it true that you used to be in love with him?’

‘I guess I was really desperate to be loved at that time, I mean I was even married to _Austria_ at some point. I’m a true Romance; I live for love just like you and Francis do. I don’t know their true nature, but I suspected those feelings I had towards him were wrong, he was just a child and I’m his relative on top of that. I’m not proud of that period of my life and I’ve felt bad about for a long time. I know that we’re not human and that things like marriages with huge age differences and between family members are not uncommon and are not genetically affecting any offspring or something like that… but it still _feels_ very wrong. I’m deeply ashamed of it, but I do think it’s important to talk about it. Just so I can learn.’ Spain said, looking at the ground. ‘So to answer your question; I don’t know what I truly felt for him, but it was different from anything I had experienced before, that much I know.’

‘I… I see, thank you for being honest with me.’ The Italian smiled. ‘Say, did you ever..?’

‘Act on those feelings? No, I didn’t. I would never do something like that! God, I’m not like that perverted _France_. Besides, I never thought of Roma in _that_ way! Not once! I just thought he was cute, okay!?’

‘Hmm, I already guessed that. My big brother is a good person after all~! Come on; don’t pick on France like that!’ Feliciano replied. He playfully poked his brother’s side.

‘The day I stop picking on Francis will be the day I die.’ Spain chuckled. ‘Say, do you want to hear my secret theory?’

‘Sure!’

‘I think Austria and Francis were switched at birth.’

‘What..?’ Feliciano replied with a confused look on his face.

‘No, really! It makes sense. Francis is the only one of the Romance family to be blond and all Germanics except for Austria and Prussia, but that’s because of his personal issues, are blond!’ Spain said in the most serious voice. ‘What if… our ancestors hooked up? I mean, Germania kind of looked like a girl from behind with his fancy long hair.’

‘Oh, mio Dio! Stop it, you’re making me feel sick.’ Feliciano laughed. ‘Besides two guys can’t even have kids, dummy!’

‘It could be true though; there are not many people from that period that Gramps didn’t get into bed with.’

‘Spain, please stop! Your imagination is too wild.’

‘It was actually Gilbert that made it up, it was during the interbellum. I think he just wanted to think of a reason to disown Austria.’

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Feliciano sighed. ‘Hey Spain?’

‘Yes, Italy?’

‘Thank you for brightening up the mood.’

‘No problem, that’s what you have brothers for.’ Spain replied, patting Feliciano’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I decided to go into slightly taboo-territory with this one, but I think it'll be fine since this is a mature story after all.  
> See you all next time!


	5. The archive of lost dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter written in quarantine...  
> I hope it's enjoyable!
> 
> !!!WARNING!!!  
> Major gore in this chapter

There was pain; a lot of pain. He could hardly handle it, tears came out of his eyes and he tried to scream, but no sound came out. The hole in his stomach was gaping and big, the blood was flowing freely, being directly absorbed into the damp, trampled grass beneath his little body. The sword that had struck him had been pulled out forcefully, making the cut even bigger than it had originally been, his ribs were broken and one of his eyes was swollen until it was nearly completely shut and he couldn’t feel his legs. His head was spinning and a throbbing pain was constantly present, at least it was keeping him from passing out. He could feel that his heart was struggling, had he been human he would have died by now, his heartbeat was agonizingly slow, he guessed at 12 beats per minute, but he couldn’t really concentrate on counting, not with everything that was going on. It didn’t have much blood left to transport; most of it had already left his body.

He tried to put force on the wound in order to close it up and prevent further bleeding using his hands, but they were trembling too much. His broken wrists, dislocated shoulder and bleeding palms made it impossible to apply enough pressure to cease the bleeding. Tired, he let his arms fall back to his sides, wincing as they hit the floor.

Never in his life had he felt this much pain; it was excruciating, unbearable. His body ached with each sob, making it all the more painful. Why wasn’t this wound healing? The healing process should have been started by now, but the familiar tingling in his body was missing and the pain wasn’t fading in the least; it was getting worse and worse. The skin wasn’t closing in, it was not coming back together and instead it ripped apart even further when he tried to sit up, making an awful sound. It tore through the silent air, flesh being torn apart. He’s heard the sound before during battle, but it was always evened-out by the battle-cries. It had never sounded so loud before.

He started to get scared; did this mean that he was going to die? Around him lay the bodies of fallen soldiers, both friend and foe, but they were hard to distinguish now that they were lifeless and covered in blood. It was impossible to tell which arms belonged to whom, which head was connected to a body and which was no longer. The French had been more than he could handle. He cursed himself for being so weak. He had given it everything he had, but in the end he was just a child, not yet ready nor suited to fight in battles this big, sadly this was what nationhood meant; it didn’t matter how old you were or what your gender might be, you could never be excused.

He didn’t want to die; he wasn’t even a teenager yet and had many dreams that had yet to be fulfilled. He wanted to go back home, like he’s promised Italy. He wanted to play with her again, paint together and pick flowers. Bake all kinds of things, become the new Roman Empire together. Just the two of them, ruling over the all the countries surrounding the Mediterranean Sea and all of Europe once more. He couldn’t break that promise; Italy would be so disappointed and sad. They had to meet again.

He started crying even more. Would he ever see his big brother again? His father would be so disappointed in his weakness. Gilbert was strong at least, there was nothing he was afraid off, not even Russia. His brother was his big example in life; Gilbert was strong, handsome and really cool and had survived endlessly since the ancient times, always finding a new purpose, a new battle, a new place to represent. He had always wanted to become that way when he’s grown up, but now it seemed like he wouldn’t ever grow up at all. He would forever be remembered as that weak, average-looking boy with a bowl-cut that was so antisocial that he just read books all day and only had one friend and as a failure of what was supposed to be a great empire.

Darkness started to cloud the edges of his vision. Death would come liberate him from the pain any moment now; painless, cold silence. What would heaven be like? Would he meet his father again over there? Would he be happy to see him again? Maybe laying down and giving up wasn’t such a bad idea after all, death sounded peaceful. The pain he endured now would be gone at least. In death there was no more shame, only peace and quiet.

Eventually scavengers would get rid of his body and every trace of his existence would be gone, only memories would remain. He hoped people would remember him as a good person, he hoped Italy wouldn’t forget about him. He cursed himself for not having the picture he painted with him; the face of his beloved would be a good last thing to see, wouldn’t it? The picture was so dear to him, yet the generals of his army had taken it from him while he slept, they told him that it was a hassle to carry it around all the time and that he should just dispose of it already. He wanted to hold that picture to his chest as he cried himself a lullaby, he wanted to at least have something of Italy to bring with him once he crossed the borders of life and death.

For nearly 900 years he had loved her, the little girl that was so sweet, so kind and so talented. He should have been nicer to her; he should have told her how he felt sooner and not wait until the very last second. Their first kiss had been their last. Italy had asked him to look after himself, to not get injured or die violently and return home and he’d failed all of those. The only thing he had succeeded in was keeping the promise that he would always think of her.

He missed her so, so much. Her voice as she sang, her smiles as she watched the stars, her paintings of cute animals, her tears as she was afraid of the thunder, the clumsy way she carried those heavy buckets of water and swept the floors, the way she’d get lost in the halls of Austria’s big house. He had loved her to the point of where his house grew instable. Gilbert had warned him, Austria had warned him as well, but he didn’t care. At least Hungary had supported him in his love for Italy; she was the only one to know that love wasn’t a bad thing. It was okay to love and so he chose to love Italy.

He decided to pray one last time for survival, one more time to stand in God’s favor. Gilbert had taught him that you should always trust in God when things were getting hard, he would do what was best for you if you prayed for him.

‘God, please help me. I’m so scared of the dark. The bible told me there would be a white light, but all I can see now is darkness. It hurts, it hurts so bad. I wonder why you’re mad at me, why you want me to endure this pain. Is it because I lied to Italy about coming back? I’m sorry, I truly believed I would. I thought I was stronger than this. I wish you would forgive me. Would you please take me home?’ He spoke silently. His voice was weak and hoarse, his throat was filled with clumps of blood, it filled his mouth with a thick, metallic taste. It was nauseating.

He threw up the last of the contents of his stomach, but his vomit was mostly just blood. He cried again at the pain the anti-peristaltic movements brought. His ribs felt like they were bruising as his body did everything in its’ last power to throw up, bringing spasms through his entire body. The stomach-acids burned in his throat, the taste was so bad he immediately threw up again, but this time he could only gag up some slime.

A child shouldn’t have to die covered in vomit and blood, their own and that from the enemy. A child shouldn’t have to cry all alone between butchered bodies. A child should be with their parents and siblings in a house. He had always known he wasn’t an ordinary child, but many times he wished he was. He could have still been playing instead of carrying a sword twice his size to fight against grown men over their problems. Why couldn’t those stupid French just leave him alone?

He really didn’t want to die just yet, so he decided to try one last thing.

‘Anyone, please help me! Help me! Father? Gilbert? Italy? Anyone!’ He screamed at the top of his lungs, it made the pain and the bleeding intensify, but he was a true Germanic country; a fighter, a warrior and he wouldn’t go down without putting up one last fight. ‘Listen to me, France! I will make you pay for this! We surrendered and you still destroyed my home! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!’ He screamed, despite knowing that France couldn’t hear him, for he had long since returned home to celebrate the French victory. ‘My brother will get you and he and Italy will never be your friends again!’

He knew that these were nothing but empty lies, there would be no revenges. He would be dead before daybreak and his brother would find out weeks later, never knowing what happened to him. No one would know France killed him and they would assume he died because of his own weakness. Someone was going to tell Italy about his fall, he wondered if she would cry for him like she did when they said their goodbyes on that faithful day he left for war; that was now decades into the past.

Decades had passed, yet he was still stuck in the body of a child. Maybe Italy had grown up by now, she was probably extremely beautiful. She must have found another boy, someone that didn’t scare her all the time, someone that wouldn’t violently fight others to their death. Somehow the thought of Italy having moved on hurt almost as badly as the physical pain he was enduring. He knew it was selfish, but he wanted her to wait for his return forever and ever. He wanted her eternal yearning.

Nationhood was strange, one day you ruled over nearly all of central Europe and then out of the blue you’re dying covered in mud, grass, the blood of enemies as well as your own and vomit on a trampled battlefield. It was unfair and cruel, because he knew that if he wasn’t dying here, someone else would be here in his place. If he had won this battle, France would be lying here.

War didn’t ever have a right or wrong, both parties were innocent as much as they were guilty, yet there was only one that was bearing the shame of loss while the other experienced euphoria. Age and gender didn’t matter in the conflict, a little girl could kill a grown man and a woman could murder a young boy. One time the stab-wounds and bullet-holes would close within minutes and the other time they wouldn’t heal at all. One day you lived and one day you died.

Suddenly there was complete silence; there hadn’t been much noise at all earlier on the deserted battlegrounds, but now even the last noise had ceased. He realized that it was his heartbeat. It stopped. He couldn’t move anymore, couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak, couldn’t feel and couldn’t see; he could only think, but for how long? This was death, right? It was all over now, his empire had fallen, he had failed his people and he was dead.

“I love you, Italy. I said I’d love you until the end and I did. I’m sorry I lied to you and that we won’t get to play together again.” He thought before his consciousness had also faded away.

It was the year 1806 that the Holy Roman Empire came to his merciless end.

\---

Gilbert had felt it in his bones when he woke up that morning. The dreadful feeling of something terrible hanging over his head like a big, dark cloud. He knew that his little brother was fighting the French somewhere, but he had never really cared about that until now. After all, despite being brothers, Gilbert had never really gotten along with Raimund all that well. Raimund was always dad’s favorite; he didn’t look like the child of a demon, always behaved himself and never lied.

When Gilbert was born, it was obvious that he was different. He was pale, red-eyed and white-haired, he didn’t have a country to represent at all, just a small group of people living near the coasts of the southern part of the Baltic Sea and he was fine with that; he liked his independence as a minor power. However when Raimund suddenly came to life, Gilbert started to get jealous. The perfect, blond-haired and blue-eyed boy everyone fell for at first sight, even Gilbert himself. (He had cried like a baby when he got to hold his little brother for the first time, God did he love him.)

Raimund was just a toddler when he was representing most of Central-Europe and his empire just kept on getting bigger and bigger while strangely enough Raimund’s body was left behind. Raimund was the perfect example of a nation, wise and good with the blade even at his young age. Although Raimund was small, he always acted like he was a responsible adult and often bossed his siblings around despite being just a child. Father was constantly praising Raimund on his maturity and efficiency, while he mostly just ignored Gilbert’s reckless efforts. After all, as their father he couldn’t possibly praise the fact that two of his children were always engaged in war against each other. He knew that his father loved him dearly and that he didn’t care about his peculiar visage, in fact he loved him just as much as he loved Raimund and his other siblings, but there was always a distance between them and it remained there until he died.

After their father’s death Raimund went off to try and conquer Italy. Ever since the beginning of the 10th century Raimund had been oddly obsessed with the place and repeatedly tried to get the little Italy, or more precisely, North-Italy or Veneziano, to join his empire. It was almost as if their father’s obsession with ancient Rome had somehow rubbed off on the youngest member of the Germanic family, hell, he was even called the Holy _Roman_ Empire. Raimund wasn’t really holy, but he _definitely_ wasn’t Roman. Gilbert found it funny on one hand, yet scary on the other. He’s heard stories about that little girl Veneziano; she was a lot stronger than she looked or acted and despite his jealousy over Raimund, he still cared about the precious thing. Because big and important empire and bossy little shit or not, Raimund was just way too adorable and his precious little brother.

He had met South-Italy, or Rome, a few times when hanging out with Spain, with whom he got along quite well, and had found that the lower part of Italy was an absolute jerk. Gilbert had never once thought a child that small could say such nasty things; he doubted Veneziano was like that. Austria, with whom the little girl was living, never spoke of such a thing at least and his arch-nemesis/bestie/possible love interest/sister-in-law/Hungary could only speak fondly of Veneziano. The last couple of decades Raimund’s obsession had grown remarkably large, or was obsession the wrong word to use here? Gilbert figured it was. Love was the correct word. A love as innocent and pure as could be. A youthful, unknowing love. He had never known a childhood love could be this strong and last this long, after all Gilbert himself had his fair share of childhood crushes, but they never got as serious as Raimund’s love for Veneziano.

What if it was a bad thing? What if it held him back in battle? What if something happened to him? Dad would be extremely upset if he were to see one of his children end up in heaven prematurely, especially if said child was his darling.

Gilbert had kicked off his blankets and hurriedly dressed himself; he’d grabbed a loaf of bread and jumped on the back of his horse, which was as pale as he was, hence why he’d named it Prussia#2. He had to get to France as fast as he possibly could; he was a skilled equestrian, so he could eat with one hand and navigate his horse with the other. Gilbert felt it in his gut; things were bad. His brother could very well have been injured badly; this war had been lasting far too long, he hadn’t seen Raimund for nearly 3 decades, yet he’s never felt this feeling before. Gilbert knew that making this journey was at least 7 days of travelling, if the weather was kind enough to allow top speed and to only have minimal breaks.

He’d overheard things when passing through small villages on his way here; the Holy Roman Empire had fallen, they lost the battle. He knew that this most likely meant that his brother had died, a nation rarely survived the fall of their empire. Luckily the weather conditions had been unusually kind to him and his horse was as fit as could be. So after having traveled for a full week he reached the spot where he subconsciously knew he had to be.

The stench of rotting flesh immediately filled his nose, causing him to gag. Clearly the people hadn’t gotten to cleaning up the remains of the battle yet, too preoccupied with mourning or partying, he supposed. Gilbert used his teeth to rip off a piece of cloth from his blouse and tied it around his nose and mouth to prevent the smell from making him sick. He knew that finding his brother between this load of bodies was near mission impossible, Raimund was just so small after all.

The scenery looked like the very dark and twisted baroque paintings you’d see in southern-Europe, mostly made by self-proclaimed Satanists and witches. The sky was grey and rapidly darkening as the sun set behind a thick layer of clouds, soldiers dressed in blood-sodden uniforms lay peacefully, yet disdainful on the trampled fields, their bodies butchered and mauled. Horses lay between the many men, pummeled in the conflict. The ground was weirdly soft and wet, with every step you took water mixed with sand and blood came bubbling up around your feet because of the pressure, if you stood on a single spot for too long, you’d end up ankle-deep. Swords and armor reflected the little sunlight present, making small gleams appearing as far as you could see. Flags with national symbols and escutcheons were scattered here and there, some intact others torn to pieces.

A big, yellow and black flag of the Holy Roman Empire caught Gilbert’s eye. The flag was surprisingly clean and unharmed. It was standing on a pole, a couple hundred meters away from the spot on which Gilbert was standing. The flag was barely moving since the area was almost void of any wind, yet a light shone down on it, illuminating the ground below.

Gilbert squinted his eyes, taking in the sight and then slid down the saddle of his horse and started running as fast his legs could carry him, careful not to step on any of the slain men; they might have been his brother’s enemies, but no one deserved to be disgraced in death just for serving their country. The flag came closer and closer, just a few more seconds and he’d be able to reach out and touch it.

And there he lay. Right next to the enormous flag was the body of a child elegantly dressed in white and gold, blond hair sprawled around his head as if a halo. He looked like someone from a fairytale, was it not for the grayish-blue hue gracing his youthful features; his blood-covered body, the mud and something that looked like vomit on his clothes, the gaping hole in his stomach, the legs that looked like they were no longer connected to the body or the dark-blue eyes staring lifelessly into the heavens. He had grown a lot since they last spoke, he appeared as about 10 years old now, but there was no mistaking that this boy was Raimund Beilschmidt, the impersonation of the Holy Roman Empire, and there was no mistaking that he was dead.

‘F-fuck.’ Gilbert emotionally muttered breath as he picked up even more speed. He immediately realized that this was a bad idea; Raimund couldn’t be saved anymore no matter how fast he ran and this speed made him prone to missteps. Before he realized it Gilbert found himself face-down on the ground, his nose breaking on the impact, as if it wasn’t ugly enough already from the many fractures it had to endure in his long life, warm blood immediately streaming down his lower face.

‘Ew, ew, ew! This is so fucking gross!’ Gilbert cringed; his entire clothes were now dirty and wet with remains of human beings. The feeling was absolutely terrible and in combination with the dead body of his very own baby brother lying on the ground just a few meters away from him made Gilbert cry, not just sobs, but wailing and agonized screams. Gilbert was strong, stronger than most, be it men or women, he rarely ever shed a tear, but now it was just too much. He gave up on standing up again; instead he crawled the last distance between him and his brother.

‘Little one?’ Gilbert said, his lips trembling as he spoke. He carefully closed the boy’s eyelids, no longer wanting to see their empty stare. Gilbert carefully placed one of his hands on the crown of the blonde’s head, careful not to pressure too hard, the skin felt cold against his palm. He lovingly caressed his brother’s hair, something he should have done more often. He couldn’t remember the last time he’s done it, but he guessed it must have been at least 300 years ago. ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have abandoned you like this.’ Gilbert sobbed.

It wasn’t exactly the case though; nations were preoccupied with their own problems, they were always selfish, they needed to be selfish in order to achieve big things. They didn’t have the time to look after their family while they were at war themselves. Yet it still crushed him; he felt guilty. Such a human emotion to feel. Gilbert wondered why nations had to have emotions like love, empathy, sadness and guilt. You didn’t need emotions to be able to blindly obey your leader; they only got in the way of things and they weren’t even human in the first place. They were a slap of land, divided by borders decided by humans a lifeless object carrying life, they were a lifeless thing that somehow took the appearance and soul of a human.

Gilbert stopped his motion, his eyes widened. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ He gasped. Had he seen it wrong? His eyes weren’t the best after all, with his condition. But he hadn’t been wrong, he’d seen it correctly. Slowly, but surely the dead boy’s chest was rising and falling, the motion was slow, it would have been too slow had he been human, but it was there. Raimund was alive, nearly dead, but alive nonetheless. Gilbert’s heart skipped a beat from joy and excitement. There was still hope.

‘Okay, Prussia. Think. What should you do? I should get him out of here as soon as I can, but I don’t want to alert anybody and risk getting into a fight with the French.’ He said to himself. Gilbert found that talking to himself helped him focus, so he often did so when things got hard. ‘I need to dress his wounds first and be careful not to injure him further during the journey, but my house is so far from here. Maybe I should go to Austria’s place; it’s a lot closer… He’ll be pissed at me, but surely he’ll help Holy Rome, right?’

‘Alright, here goes…’ Gilbert said as he tore down the flag from its’ pole, tearing half of it in strips he could use as bandages, while saving the other half of it to use as blanket to prevent Raimund from getting a cold during their trip. He concentrated deeply and started dressing the wounds, starting with the big stab-wound in the boy’s stomach.

It then dawned on Gilbert how much his brother must have been hurting before he’d slipped away into his paralyzed state. Feeling around his body, Gilbert found many broken bones and many bruised limbs. Raimund didn’t wince in pain, not even once. If it wasn’t for the slow, but steady breathing anyone would have declared him to be dead. He had no idea if his brother would even survive long enough to reach Austria, but that didn’t matter. If he didn’t try Raimund would die without any doubt.

‘Okay, so what do you do when a limb is like… all the way off?’ Gilbert asked himself, upon seeing that Raimund’s right leg was severed from mid-thigh. ‘Do you like, just stitch it back on? Francis said that it worked with his head before, so I guess it’ll work on a leg too, right? But I’m terrible at needlework, so I’m just gonna pack up this leg and ask Hungary to do it…’ Gilbert felt like that if he stopped talking he would burst into tears so he kept his conversation with the most awesome person alive going.

After having wrapped his brother (and his loose leg) in a piece of the flag he’d cut up, he whistled for his horse. Prussia#2 obeyed like he always did and came to get his owner.

‘Awww, Prussia#2 you’re so awesome!’ Gilbert said while lovingly petting the animal’s nose. ‘This trip will be a little heavier; we’ve got some extra baggage, but we need to hurry. You see, this is my little brother and he will die if we do not hurry.’ The white-haired boy explained to the animal. Gilbert had no idea if the horse could understand him, so after securing the still body of his younger brother he put his foot in the stirrup and climbed on the animal’s back. He didn’t waste a second before gesturing the animal to start galloping.

\---

‘Mr. Austria!’ Hungary said, out of breath from running. ‘It’s Prussia; he’s here!’

‘What does he want now?’ The dark-haired man replied. He grimaced at the name of his least favorite brother.

‘It’s about Holy Roman Empire. He’s…’ Hungary said, stopping to take a deep breath.

‘Oh… He died, didn’t he? I’ve heard that the Empire had fallen.’ Austria said. He was slightly panicking, because while Prussia was his least favorite brother, Holy Rome had always been his favorite one.

‘No, he didn’t! He’s alive, at least that what’s Prussia says, but I’ve seen the body and it’s hard to believe, the child is quite literally butchered. Prussia wants to ask us for help to heal that poor boy.’ Hungary said. ‘So can we take him in again until he recovers from his wounds?’

‘Where are they?’ Austria asked.

‘They’re in the entrance hall; I’m going to get sewing supplies first. He has a lot of wounds and a severed leg that need to get sewn and of course that idiot can’t thread a needle himself, so I have to do the dirty work. I never wanted to stab that poor child with a needle.’

‘Right, you do that. I’m going to have a little chat with Gilbert.’ Austria said as he exited the room.

‘Gilbert, what have you done?’

‘Excuse me?’ The albino replied.

‘Weren’t you supposed to look out for him? How did this happen!?’ Austria said, gesturing to the mauled and motionless body of their younger brother.’

‘He’s your brother as well! You should have protected him too. And maybe you should have been nicer to him instead of making his study all the goddamn time; you’re terrible with kids! So don’t pretend like you care now that it’s too late. You _hate_ them. I know how you used to treat Italy; this little boy told me all about it. You never even cared about anyone but yourself. Hungary would be better off without you; you made her into someone she’s not!’ Gilbert hissed.

‘You take those words back right now.’ Austria said, shaking with rage. ‘I’ve made mistakes, yes. But I never wanted for this to happen.’

‘Well, it did, Roderich! It really fucking did.’ Gilbert said, to his horror he started to tear up. He had never wanted to present himself in such a pitiful state towards the person he despised most. ‘What in God’s name are we going to tell that poor little Veneziano, huh? She’s still waiting.’

‘You said that this kid’s alive, right? So that means there is a chance that he’ll be just fine!’ Austria replied.

‘Boys! Stop your bickering for one fucking moment!’ Hungary said as she entered the room. ‘We won’t know if he lives of dies unless we try to save him first! Get out of the way and let me help him at least. Oh, and if you want to know my take; you’re both in the wrong. Now get the fuck out and get me some water, Roderich! Gilbert, I want you to make a bed for him. I’m sure you can manage that at the very least!’

‘Geez, lady. Calm down. I can make a fucking bed, alright?’ Gilbert muttered as he walked off. ‘I just hope Austria can carry a bucket of water.’

‘I heard that, Prussia.’ The brown-haired man replied.

‘Shut up and get to work!’ Hungary shouted. ‘God, men are so annoying. I can’t believe I used to think I was one.’

\---

‘Good morning dear!’ Hungary said cheerfully as she entered the room with a tray of breakfast.

‘Morning, miss Hungary.’ The child replied with a respectful nod.

‘I brought your breakfast; your dumbass brother had to catch up with the work he’d neglected.’

‘That’s Prussia, alright.’ Raimund chuckled.

It had been several years since he’d been found on the battle field and his physical injuries were mostly healed. Prussia had taken him back to his house and hid him there from the world. Austria would occasionally come to visit him, but Hungary would sometimes stay in Prussia’s home for weeks just to care for him. She loved him so dearly that she was more than happy to endure Prussia’s personality for weeks on end as long as she could take care of the child. She was almost like a mother to him.

His other brothers would drop by too, telling him stories and helping him with complicated questions he had. Even France would visit him from time to time; Raimund had been able to forgive the man for what he’d done. He bore no more hatred towards him. France would tell him how Italy was doing; it was enough for Raimund to know she was doing well. Or… he. It turned out his childhood-crush hadn’t been a girl after all. At first he’d denied it, but now he didn’t really care. As long as Italy was happy, he couldn’t care less.

Raimund wasn’t healthy, though. He was terribly sick, coughing up blood after performing the simplest of tasks. He was still trying to keep his empire together with all his might, he still set up meetings and was always present despite everyone telling him not to go. Lately, he was doing even worse than usual. He knew his definite time of death was creeping up to him. At least this time he would be able to die in peace, surrounded by loved ones.

He wasn’t scared anymore. He had accepted that he was going to die a long time ago now. He knew Gilbert was busy with the creation of a new united German empire, he wondered what type of country it would be. Maybe the new person would resemble him in some ways; they were going to be brothers after all. He was a bit sad that he wouldn’t meet this new brother, because his birth would certainly mean Raimund’s death. Still he welcomed it. He was tired, he had fought for as long as he could, but living without an empire was tough. He was prone to human illness as well as nation illness, wounds wouldn’t heal anymore and he could feel his body starting to decay.

Black spots had formed on his skin; they resembled the plague, but worse. They smelled like death. He’d already lost half a leg to rotting and three fingers. Hungary and Prussia had amputated them in the hope that they could prevent the rotting from spreading, but to no avail. They were on his back, stomach, neck and arms. The right side of his face was starting to rot as well, his teeth visible through a hole in his cheek. His organs had started failing more and more and he could barely eat anymore.

‘So, tell me how you’re doing today.’ Hungary said as she put the tray down on the nightstand. ‘Have any new spots formed yet?’

‘Sadly, yes. I think my other leg will need to be amputated from the hip down. I can barely feel it anymore and it’s starting to bleed and the bone is visible near the knee.’ Raimund explained. ‘I also fear that my eyes are starting to get weaker. I can’t see the individual leaves on the trees outside. It’s just a blur now.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear.’ The woman said. She caressed his head without wearing gloves or anything. She dared to do so as the only person.

‘I think I will die today.’ Raimund confessed. ‘But I don’t mind.’ He added with a weak smile.

Hungary couldn’t reply.

‘Would you please tell Prussia and Austria? I want to have you here when it’s time.’

‘Of course I will.’ She said with a sob. She placed a hand in front her mouth as she exited the room.

Later that day his dearest persons were seated around his bed. Hungary held his hand and Prussia the other, Austria had distanced himself as well as he could, not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t want to show emotion. He was standing in a corner with a pained expression on his face. Raimund smiled one last time and then closed his eyes as his heart failed. Slowly he slid away in a warm, fuzzy feeling. Thinking of Italian landscapes, Italy’s smile, his family. His chest no longer rose and fell, he could no longer think.

‘It’s better this way. He fought so well.’ Hungary said softly as she stroke her thumb over his rotten hand.

‘I’m so very proud of him.’ Prussia said. ‘He was annoying and weird, but a real fighter. I’ll miss him.’ He pale man cried silently.

‘It’s truly painful to lose a family member. I shall always remember him through my music.’ Austria sighed, denying himself from crying.

‘It feels so weird. It looks like he could just wake up again right now.’ Prussia said.

‘I get what you mean. I mean, he’s been looking like a corpse for a long time now, but I still have the feeling he could just… come straight back.’ Austria replied.

‘Fuck it, man. We all tried so hard to keep the kid alive. We seriously failed.’ Prussia cried.

‘Gil… please don’t cry. You’re going to make me go as well.’ Hungary said with watery eyes.

‘Who cares if you cry? He’s dead. We’re allowed to cry.’ Prussia replied.

‘We are, aren’t we?’ Austria said. Finally a tear rolled down his cheek.

The three of them remained at his bedside for hours, until the sky had gone completely dark. They were all scared to say goodbye for real, but they knew that they had too. A coffin had already been made; tomorrow they would put him inside it. They would clean his body and dress him in the most beautiful clothes. His funeral would be private, but beautiful. Music would be played, poems would be said and flowers would be placed all around him. His gave would be underneath an ancient oak, resting in the shadow and protected from rain and snow at all times. It would be a small, modest grave. Just how Raimund would have wanted it. On the headstone would be carved the words “Here lies Raimund Albertus Eadwulf Beilschmidt. Representation of the Holy Roman Empire. May God guide over his soul.”

But that funeral never came. All that followed were things Ludwig already knew.

\---

Ludwig woke up in cold sweat, bolting upright. He sighed heavily. That must have been the worst dream he’d ever had. Except he knew that this hadn’t been a dream at all. These were his memories from the past. His memories mixed with Gilbert’s memories. He couldn’t remember anything at all, expect from these memories from his death. There wasn’t a single happy memory between them. It was an awful feeling, he had been expecting something like this to happen after Gilbert had confessed it all to him earlier that evening, but he had never known his last years of life had been so horribly sad and painful. He was almost able to feel that pain, so real had the dream been.

‘It happened, huh?’ Gilbert whispered.

‘Yeah, it did.’ Ludwig replied.

‘How bad was it?’

‘It was horrible.’ Ludwig admitted. ‘But somehow I’m glad I now know. It would just have been nice if I could retrieve at least one nice memory from my former self.’

‘There is a good chance that you never will get those memories.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Maybe tomorrow I can tell you about some of them?’ Gilbert proposed.

‘I would like that, Gilbert.’ Ludwig replied. ‘You really did care about him, didn’t you?’

‘I did, he was my little brother. It hurt to see him die.’

‘I’m grateful that you cared so much.’

‘It was simply my duty.’

‘I’ll have to thank Hungary too the next time I see her. I never knew she had watched over me for so long. Austria, too.’

‘You should do that. They’d be happy to hear that, I’m sure.’

‘I have decided that I will not be telling Italy just yet.’ Ludwig said.

‘If that’s what you think is best, you should.’ Gilbert replied. ‘You’re smart, after all.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave some kudo's or a comment to tell me what you think of this chapter. Please, I need it, quarantine is so boring.


	6. Born Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead, yet.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Gilbert has told Ludwig a little lie in the past chapter about how he found out Ludwig was alive, as he wanted to spare his brother the gruesome details. This chapter shows the truth.

Gilbert was breathing deeply from the heavy labor, sweat mixed with rain water streamed down his back despite the night air being chilly. Another shovel filled with dirt was added to the growing pile. ‘God, Roderich. You can make yourself useful instead of just standing there!’ Gilbert hissed at his brother who stood leaned against a tree.

‘This was not my idea, who even thought of this absurd plan in the first place?’ Austria replied sourly. He hated the outside and especially the rain. He would rather be inside right now.

‘Shut up you two and keep digging! Roderich, if you can’t dig at least assist us by giving us a light so we can see something! Go get a watertight lantern from inside. The sooner we got this done, the better.’ Erzsébet yelled. She was digging in the wet soil beside Gilbert.

‘Yeah, we _have_ to be done before daylight. Otherwise Erzsé will be burned as a witch and I will be hanged and you... you’ll be an accomplice, so we’ll hang together and I sure as hell do not want to share my gallows with you! Gilbert said.

‘Fuck this.’ The pale man said as a stream of mud fell back into the hole. ‘We should have picked a dry evening to do this.’

‘Jesus, how deep is this thing even?’ Erzsébet asked. ‘We are already way deeper in than 6 feet.’

‘You two do realize that England hasn’t even agreed to this yet, right? This is the dumbest plan ever. I expected this from Prussia, but not from you, Hungary.’

‘No, you dickhead. I got this. Francis should be here soon, he will be able to get England to do this for sure.’ Prussia said.

‘It’s the best shot we have, Roderich. Things cannot go on like this; an empire without a representative is destined to fail! We need him, it’s what the former German states decided, right? This shouldn’t have happened in the first place.’ The brunette replied. Her shovel hit something hard. ‘Gil, I think I’ve reached the casket here.’ She said in relief. Gilbert crawled over to her and knocked on the surface. The sound echoed faintly. It was definitely the lid of a tomb.

‘Finally! Now we just remove this dirt and open the lid. You can climb out now and get the trunk ready; I’ll do the rest of the dirty work.’ Gilbert said in relief.

‘You don’t have to tell me twice.’ Erzsébet said as she dropped her shovel and hoisted herself out of the grave with athletic ease. She wiped her dirty hands on the hem of her dress, earning a disgusted look from her husband.

‘Quiet! I think I can hear horse feet in the distance,’ Roderich said. ‘I might even see a light, but I can’t really tell for sure due the rain.’ The brunet squinted with his eyes in order to identify the object. ‘Yes, there is a light and it’s moving towards us. We’ve got about two minutes at most before it gets here.’

‘Fuck.’ Erzsébet hissed under her breath. ‘I sure hope that it’s Francis, otherwise we’re really fucking screwed.’

‘Yeah, she’s right. We should cover the hole with some branches and hide in the woods until we can tell for sure,’ Roderich said. ‘Gilbert come out of that grave and get your ugly ass behind a tree.’

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.’ Gilbert sighed. He climbed out of the grave without much difficulty, but he was not as fast or graceful as Erzsébet had been.

The three of them worked as fast as they could, covering the gaping hole with branches, leafs and a bit of soil. It didn’t look highly convincing, but if the horseback rider passed quickly, it was unlikely he would notice the abnormality in the dark of the night. If it was Francis, he surely would notice due his enhanced sight and smell.

They ran into the woods and his behind a tree, occasionally peeking around the corner to see if the rider had passed them by already.

\---

The mysterious rider had indeed been Francis. They had all been extremely relieved by that and got out of their hiding place as soon as they recognized him.

After 30 minutes of work they managed to pry the lid of the casket and they were able to see the body for the first time in months. Roots of the tree had formed a protective cradle around the body; pale grey flowers grew from the skin, deeply rooted into the flesh, their strings tightly entangled with the roots of the tree. The seemed to omit a strange kind of light, it was pale and nearly unnoticeable from a distance, but it was undeniably there.

‘He hasn’t decayed at all, aside from the flowers he looks the same. That’s really strange.’ Roderich said. The boy still looked the exactly identical to as he had on the day they buried him half a year ago.

‘Looking at him like this, I can’t believe he’s really gone. It looks like he’s just sleeping.’ Francis said.

‘He’s definitely dead though. No heartbeat, no breathing.’ Gilbert said, tenderly wiping the dirt away from the dead boy’s pale face.

‘You really sure this is a good plan, Gil? He looks so serene right now… perhaps we should let him go after all,’ Erzsébet said.

‘I agree with Hungary,’ Roderich said. ‘He looks peaceful. God knows what might happen if we bring him back to life.’

‘No; we need to do this. He has to. This empire cannot survive without him. The others didn’t give up their lives for nothing. They were my family, seeing them die hurt like fuck, you know? All of us agreed that this was the best we could do.’

‘I am still in disbelief all of your siblings are as fucked in the head as you are, Gilbert.’ Francis said. ‘I mean, smuggling a dead child to England, letting Arthur perform necromancy on it..? It’s the worst plan ever.’

Erzsébet and Roderich nodded in agreement.

‘Yet here you all are. That just shows that you all agree with me deep down.’

‘Let’s just get this over with; we have about 3 hours until sunset. That should get us far enough from here. We’ll be at the coast the day after tomorrow; then we’ll just have to get aboard a ship without people discovering the corpse,’ Francis sighed. ‘The carriage is ready for department; I installed a hidden cabin underneath the floor. We’ll wrap him in blankets and put him there and pray no one will notice. If they put me in the guillotine again I will blame you, Gilbert.’

‘Fair enough.’ Gilbert said. ‘Erzsé, give me a hand.’ Together they attempted to lift the boy out of his casket, but the roots of the flowers prevented that from happening.

‘We’ll have to cut the strings.’ The brunette said. ‘Roderich, give me that knife.’

The Austrian passed the knife to his wife, who then proceeded to try and cut the strings of the flowers. When she cut one, it bled for a few seconds and then immediately grew back.

‘Mon dieu, it looks like his land wants to keep him here.’ Francis said in disbelief. ‘The land; it’s surviving through him even though he has already passed…’

‘It’s parasitic..?’ Roderich whispered. ‘It’s directly connected to his veins!’

‘It appears it is. Now I’m afraid of what would happen if we untangle him, would the land die without its’ host?’ The Hungarian woman said. ‘Are we putting the humans at risk by doing this?’

‘I had no idea dead nations lived on like this… it’s like they get absorbed by the earth and the land feeds off them.’ Francis said.

‘What are we doing now? Are we using brute force to get him out?’ Gilbert asked.

‘Idiot! You have no idea what might happen if we did that!’ Roderich said. ‘Besides, who knows how deep these roots are inside his body, what if you damage vital organs or something? We need an intact body to make this work properly!’

‘Lord, I feel like crying.’ Erzsébet said.

‘Don’t do that, if you start crying, I’ll start crying.’ Francis said.

‘Guys, I’m just going to try, brace yourselves.’ Gilbert said.

‘Gilbert, don’t!’ Roderich hissed at him.

Gilbert ignored his brother’s plea and started pulling on the shoulders of the dead boy. There was no movement at all, the body remained perfectly in place. He bit his lip until it bled; pulling with all of his power he finally noticed a movement in the corpse. He pulled even harder, his bones dislocating because of the impact, and suddenly toppled backwards when the strings gave out, the dead body landing on top of him. Gilbert was catching his breath, but when he looked up, his breath stuck in his throat.

Two sky-blue eyes were looking into his face. The boy cocked his head sideways, looking at the man beneath him with a puzzled expression. ‘Brother.’ The child mumbled, his voice sounding hoarse. He then pointed at Roderich and mumbled the word again. Everyone was frozen in their place. That was definitely Holy Rome’s body, but the voice sounded so different and childish. Like this child was unable to talk. The eyes were different too, no longer deep blue like the ocean, but clear as the sky on a summer day.

‘Uhm, hey boy! Did you miss your awesome big brother?’ Gilbert said after he regained his senses. He sat up and positioned the child so that it was sitting in his lap. The boy looked at him as if he didn’t understand the words. Gilbert didn’t know what to do, so he just pulled the boy in and cradled him against his shoulder, stroking his hair. ‘Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to be scared of me, idiot.’ The child was trembling and crying.

‘Help me out here, will you?’ Gilbert mouthed towards his three companions.

‘Ah, right!’ Erzsébet said. ‘Hey there, sweetheart. I’m Hungary, do you remember me? I’m your sister-in-law.’ She said softly. She crouched down behind Gilbert and smiled at the boy that was shyly looking at her over the pale man’s shoulder. ‘You gave us quite the scare, you know?’

‘You sure did, little one! I’m France; I’m a good friend of your brother here.’

‘Ah, you know me already, so there is no need to introduce myself to you. I just want to tell you that I’m glad to see you doing so well.’ Roderich said.

The boy didn’t respond.

‘Let’s go inside first. Get the poor kid a cup of tea and some blankets.’ Francis said.

‘France is right, Prussia. We should go inside; the rain is getting heavier.’

‘Right. Come here.’ Gilbert said. He raised himself from the ground without using his arms, carrying the still motionless boy inside.

There had been one development, though, for the boy had wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and didn’t look scared anymore as he quietly took in his surroundings.

\---

In the months that followed Gilbert spent most of his time teaching his brother, who he had given the name Ludwig, everything anew. He hadn’t been able to walk, talk, read or write, but Ludwig proved himself to be a smart one, learning fast and soon he had regained all the intelligence his former self had possessed. He read book after book, played the violin and the flute with passion, built elaborate and accurate battle strategies with the toy soldiers Hungary had made for him, was able to speak German, French, Latin and English fluently and took the role of being a country very serious. He did all his paperwork without question, worked hard every day and was well-loved by his people. The German Empire was functional and was quickly becoming a front-runner in technology.

No one ever spoke about the “flower incident” anymore. It was simply something of the past and they didn’t question it any further. A week or so after Ludwig’s birth, the tree he had been buried under had died unexplainably.

To Gilbert, it was as if Holy Rome had never died, he had just taken a break from life and came back with amnesia. They hadn’t told him anything about his past, France, Hungary, Austria and him had sworn to keep it quiet, at least until Ludwig was a little older. Maybe Ludwig would even realize it on his own; he read enough books on history to piece it together. Maybe Ludwig simply didn’t care about his past and only wished to focus on the future. That was fine with Gilbert; his little brother was thriving and becoming stronger by the day, so strong even that it slightly scared Gilbert. Where he had failed in the past, he succeeded now.

For a while, things were fine. But then an incident happened and war crumbled his home. It happened twice in a century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Please leave some kudo's or a comment if you feel up to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment while you're at it!  
> Until the next time!


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